


Dream Catcher

by fairyminseok



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cloud Atlas Fusion, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossdressing, Dystopia, Fantasy, Genderbending, Historical, Kinks, M/M, Multi, OT3, Platonic Soulmates, Reincarnation, Romantic Soulmates, Science Fiction, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 74,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyminseok/pseuds/fairyminseok
Summary: “ From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future” -- Sonmi-451, Cloud Atlas





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally writte for SNCJ Secret Santa 2015. Was taken down for editing but as life has stopped me from doing said editing I am re uploading. would be helpful if we could help reinstate the reads and kudos :')  
> Individual playlists for each timeline can be found here: http://8tracks.com/secretsreactions

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."_

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector -- Year 4063, UNIT 0412**  
  
_Don’t look down._  
  
A statement with more than one meaning; deeper than it is simple.  
  
It means life or death, treason, careless mistakes or planned revolution. Looking down could mean a misstep, could mean looking into the city below; the forbidden place that is nothing compared to the Sky Sector.  
  
Sehun has never feared looking down.  
  
His home sits near the height of the city, away from the twisting paths and gaping holes. For him, to look anywhere is to look down, for to look up is to see nothing but sky, nothing but the clouds that still litter the air here and there.  
  
His father had once told him, eyes sharp over wine and rice that for Sehun to look up would be to degrade himself.

“We are here at the top, and height is power, and what is power if it dares to tilt its gaze upwards and see what it should not have to?” His father had insisted.  
  
He’d sounded intelligent, powerful, wise even, but Sehun, even at the age of fourteen, oxygen deprived fingers curling around his own red wine glass, knew that this was not so.  
  
His father -- a political figure, someone with wealth pouring from his fingertips and the finest oxygen tanks artfully placed around his home -- is someone unjust.  
  
And Sehun, the son of a nobleman and of a kind, dimpled nurse, will never be unjust. His soul will never become feverish and his lungs will never differentiate the air they pull in as better, as higher than anyone else’s.  
  
His mother; she had looked down; fallen down to never return at the hands of a ground dweller. Sehun knows this not because of his Father of those of the Sky Sector, but from one of  _them._  
  
Sehun doesn’t fear looking down, because if he never had he would have missed the eyes looking back up at him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_“The soul takes nothing with her to the next world but her education and her culture. At the beginning of the journey to the next world, one's education and culture can either provide the greatest assistance, or else act as the greatest burden, to the person who has just died.”_

 

 

 

 

  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
There is no one to greet Sehun when he arrives, weight of the door heavy as he carefully pushes it open. He's not nervous; such is the way when he's done this before, multiple times.  
  
He thinks that perhaps this master will work out, perhaps the hefty fees his mother pays forth -- hundreds of florins for his stay -- will finally be useful to repay her.  
  
"You're more expensive than a daughter," She would jest, tying the laces of her corset tighter, voice shaky as it curved into her waist. "A dowry would be cheaper than all these "teachers" you go through."  
  
"And yet my father has no ill feelings about leaving us enough money to pay for them and more," Sehun had responded, smile on his lips and hands resting at his sides; polite conversation is only reserved for his mother, only reserved for those that command his respect. Which are few.  
  
Now, he understands her distress only slightly, his own fickle nature haunting him as he slowly loses count of the men who have attempted to teach him music, art, philosophy.  
  
The walls here are nice, Sehun notes as his scantily clothed feet rustle across the smooth flooring. What it is made from, he does not know, but it feels modern, fresh, different from the distressed cathedral architecture of back home in Tuscany.  
  
The art must be his new teacher's, floral murals scattered along the walls, intricate designs and cherub figures etched into the banisters. It calms him, and Sehun smiles gently as he turns a corner, a little lost in the vastness of this villa; large for an inner city house.  
  
He hears a clue in the quiet press of notes that float to his ears, eyes alight as the beautiful melody washes over him. Sehun is pleased, ready to meet his new master and to learn from him, ready to hear his views, his rules, itching to reach the final room where he shall wait; to be undone and watched over.  
  
Sehun's knock at the doors is quiet, halted, dark ebony wood imposing as he feels the setting sun near his back, open roof of the hallway granting no shade. He relaxes when the soulful melody stops, and a voice, equally quiet as his knocks, sounds out; boyish and perhaps as young as he himself is.  
  
"You may come in."

 

 

 

  
_We are young,  
heartache to heartache we stand,  
no promises no demands_

  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
The haze is thick today.  
  
The trains are loud, screeching along the tracks and pounding in Sehun's still half-asleep ears. They make for a good alarm clock, waking her hours early, frown on her features as she sits up and rubs at her eyes.  
  
_6am._  
  
Yup. Three hours early, as usual. She rolls over in bed with a groan, ears and eyes tuning in to the sight of her bleary grey room, to the sounds of the neighbours fighting a floor above; noisy and drunk at all hours of night and day.  
  
There's a uniform hanging by the window, held up by cheap thumb tacks and looking much too expensive to be in her bedroom, much to expensive to be held in her hands.  
  
And it is too expensive, Spence Preparatory School for Girls emblazoned on its patch. Her new school as of today, paid through a scholarship and through financial aid; one step of many towards getting the perfect college education, towards becoming the perfect American girl.  
  
Sehun doesn't know a lot of this school, but her Mother had been thrilled, enthralled, ecstatic to apply for her, tears streaming down her cheeks when Sehun had received the letter in the mail.  
  
She'd cooked that night, had foregone the cheap take-out from the drive in burger place down the street for deliciously baked potatoes. Sehun had smiled, had accepted, had done all of this just for the happiness of her Mother.  
  
Her Mother doesn't notice the tight lipped smiles or the furrowed brows, doesn't notice the tenseness that cracks at Sehun's bones, or the shudders of the nightmares she wakes up from.  
  
She's watched shows, heard things at her current high school about private institutions, about the Upper East Side and its many terrors. The bullying, the tossing of social status, the teachers favouritism.  
  
Sehun is terrified to start, terrified of having no friends, no happiness, a transfer student among the elite.  
  
Sehun tilts her head to the side, frown etched onto her features and breath coming in a harsh, long gasp. She climbs from her bed, socked feet sliding against wood boards and long fingers curling around the collar of the gorgeous blazer.  
  
Her Mother had paid for the uniform itself, had ignored Sehun's protests, glaring her over the rim of her dusty glasses and scolding her.  
  
"I want my daughter to have the best," She'd said in a commanding voice, frown matching Sehun's own, but older, harsher, mature. "I can't have you wandering the Lower East Side anymore, mingling with the sketchy girls at your school. You're smart, and you're beautiful, and that’s difficult to find in this shit hold of a city."  
  
Sehun doesn't look like herself in the uniform; no she looks better, higher class, sharp and good looking. If the TV shows tell her anything though, it's that looking good in a school uniform won't be enough for this school, that the girls there are vicious, judgmental, heads held high above an economic and crime crisis that does nothing to hurt them.  
  
Sehun is strong though, and she holds her head high as she applies cheap dollar store lipstick, makes it look as if she bought it for hundreds, smiling as she starts the walk to the subway, to head over the bridge and to the place of her Mother's dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_“My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” - David Mitchell_

 

 

 

 

  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
The fires are lit tonight.  
  
Flames rising to the sky and lashing out to the sides, flicking out at Minseok as if they mean to curl around his wrist and pull him in. He considers for a second reaching out, letting the hot flames taste his fingers like a curious dog pushing his nose into a lit bonfire, but he pulls back last moment at the sound of a voice behind him.  
  
"You need to stop meditating by the fires," The voice says from somewhere behind him. "You're going to burn yourself and then I'm going to have to deal with it."  
  
"You would enjoy getting to take care of me for once," Minseok says with a grin, arms acting of their own accord to steady the owner of the voice as he struggles to sit down comfortable, too pregnant to properly lower himself. "Cute pregnant Sehun and his poor clumsy Dal-path."  
  
Sehun just giggles, leaning into Minseok's side and lacing their fingers together, irises dancing with the flames. They're alone out by the fires, having grown bored with the gambling, rowdy nature of the Pal-ions inside the safe houses.  
  
Outside has always been Minseok's favourite place, even with Hatharat slowly crumbling to nothing and the sun gone from its perch in the sky. He barely remembers the sun anyways, having been very young when the city of Dal-Hatharat had fallen to the Earth tremors. Sehun hadn't even been born yet; coming alive a year later amidst the chaos of their dystopian world, the orphan of a perished tribe.  
  
Minseok feels lost thinking about it. It had been a long time ago; though short in the eyes of a long world history. Here they are, living in safe houses at the edge of the endless sea and waiting for the ship to finish being built that will take them to utopia.  
  
"You're thinking again," Sehun murmurs, and he sounds tired, nose brushing Minseok's jaw as he looks up at him, eyelids drooping. "What are you thinking about?"  
  
"How fast you've grown up," Minseok says, and he too feels tired, wrapping a careful arm around Sehun's waist to bring him closer, placing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. "It feels like you were twenty-four cycles and I thirty just yesterday, yet now we're going to have a child."  
  
"And they'll grow up in utopia," Sehun replies, and his voice carries the same fervor, the same hope that they all carry, an edge of desperation to leave this dying world before it collapses completely on them. "Imagine, soon our stories of sitting by the fire surrounded by nothing but charred rock will seem unfathomable."  
  
"And yet we will continue to tell them I'm sure," Minseok says with a gentle smile, reaching over to brush Sehun's messy bangs from his face. "How is the baby?"  
  
"Alive," Is all Sehun says, leaning his head down on Minseok's shoulder and throwing slim legs across his lap. His habits remain the same no matter how pregnant he gets, no matter how awkward his posture is or how painful the kicking is. It causes Minseok's gentle smile to break into a sleepy grin as he settles himself down more comfortable to accommodate the weight of two people.  
  
They stay like this for a while, even after the fires have died down and the air is darker around them, too calm to move; Sehun's eyelids keep fluttering, threatening to close for good and send him into a deep slumber,but they flicker open sleepily.  
  
"Noise," He mutters, shifting in Minseok's lap and groaning audibly. "There's a noise."  
  
Minseok stiffens, jolts awake and cranes his neck. There is a noise indeed, a loud pulsating one, like that of an annoying alarm clock.  
  
"Wolves," He says sharply, leaping to his feet and yanking Sehun to his own, glancing around nervously into the darkness no longer lit by warm flame. "We're far away from the compound and it's dark."  
  
Sehun is wide awake now, fretting as he struggles to keep up with Minseok's brisk pace, wrist sore from where Minseok's fingers are digging into his skin. Minseok glances back behind him every ten feet, worried and unsure.  
  
The gate looms in front of them just as Minseok hears the first howl and they break into a run, Sehun clumsy and slow, breaths heaving from his lungs as the gate slams shut behind them.  
  
_explosions, bright in a bright sky, a running leap and nothing else. dreams._  
  
Minseok's eyes are dark as he runs a hand soothingly up and down Sehun's back; he watches the wolves, mutated and grotesque as they launch themselves at the gate, snarling and bloodthirsty.  
  
He prays that utopia will soon be real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
_Tell me how many beads there are  
In a silver chain  
Of evening rain,  
Unravelled from the tumbling main,  
And threading the eye of a yellow star: -  
So many times do I love again.  
~Thomas Lovell Beddoes_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, unknown city; Year 2013**  
  
The airport is in the middle of nowhere, tall buildings standing out against a clear blue sky, distractingly pretty. There are fields here and there; a lone train track winding through and a Seven Eleven looking mildly out of place among the airport hotels and the dingy bus station.  
  
Sehun is nervous, fingers lacing together and then falling apart repeatedly as he fidgets, foot tapping against the metal of a bench in the corner. His luggage is scattered near his feet, two suitcases and a duffle bag; tattered and falling apart at the seams. It's not much, but it's all he really needs.  
  
He won't be staying long -- only a few weeks -- but it's enough for him, and Sehun finds himself grinning slightly, leaning back against the cool wall of the airport walls, phone in hand in search of wifi.  
  
He's early and Minseok won't be here to pick him for quite a while, but Sehun's buzzing with energy, with nerves and only the tiniest tinge of fear. He's filled with questions, self deprecating and nervous, despite knowing full well that it's just Minseok and they've been dating for a nearly a year.  
  
But that's online, and Sehun isn't quite as  _showy_  as he is online, isn't as energetic, different even from their skype sessions. He's worried that he's too tall, that his face is too long, that Minseok won't like him and that-  
  
"Sehun?"  
  
Sehun's head snaps up eyes opening wide in slight shock to see Minseok standing before him, shy smile on his face, head tilted to the side and eyes sparkling.  
  
_a comet, shooting through the sky and barely missing them, three girls and one that belongs but doesn’t, love. dreams._  
  
"You're early," Sehun blurts out nervously, fidgeting and not moving from his seat, suddenly painfully aware of the strange position he's sitting in, legs sprawled out and arms flailing. He leaps to his feet -- he  _is_  too tall -- and fidgets more, chewing on the inside of his cheek and not meeting Minseok's gaze.  
  
"I don't know the procedure for these things," Minseok says with a laugh, stepping forward and poking Sehun on the nose, shy smile a little braver now. "But aren't you supposed to jump into my arms and kiss the air out of my lungs or something about now?"  
  
"Uh-" Sehun blushes scarlet, and averts his eyes further, stutters out an excuse. He's ashamed of himself; ashamed that he can't do what Minseok had just said, and the fears come crashing back. Minseok's probably going to hate him now.  
  
"I'm kidding Sehun-ah" Minseok says gently, and he's closer now, inches away from Sehun and looking up at him happily. "You're just as shy in person, eh?"  
  
"I guess so," Sehun murmurs, but then Minseok is pulling him into a hug, burying his face in Sehun's chest, and just for a second, it lifts all the anxiety that constricts up and tosses it into the air. "I'm just nervous."  
  
"Don't be nervous," Minseok tells him, and he's so pretty in person, voice clear and soft without the whir of a bad laptop speaker, without the mess up of a terrible internet connection. His nose crinkles cutely before he's taking Sehun's hand in his own, pulling one of his suitcases with the other. "It's just me, Sehun. You have nothing to worry about."  
  
And as Sehun follows behind Minseok, feet dragging with nerves, he hopes that soon he really doesn't.  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
Minseok is absorbed in his song, fingers brushing against some keys lightly and others harshly; methods calculated, learnt over the thirty years of his life. It's a relatively new piece, sorrowful and hinting at loss, at a yearning for a companionship that has since spread its wings to fly from the Florence streets for good.  
  
And yet the melody does nothing to dampen his usually bright spirits, instead brings a sort of calm quietness to his mood, body swaying as he plays, almost-there smile forming on his lips. He's so lost in his piece, so pleased with what he's created that he nearly misses the knock on his chamber door, hands stilling on the keys mid-line, spine straightening as he turns towards the door.  
  
"You may come in," Minseok calls out, voice quiet from disuse. He assumes it's to be his next student; a boy from Tuscany with quite an amount of wealth it seems, coming to learn art, music, and philosophy.  
  
The door opens slowly, creaking slightly and a boy enters; lanky, taller than him. He looks apprehensive, but bored, tired eyes taking in the room as if he's seen it thousands of times before, seemingly unimpressed by the complicated art that Minseok has carefully painted into the ceilings.  
  
Minseok stands slowly, stretching out his sore limbs impassively as he surveys the boy before him, walks calmly to his side.  
  
_a breeze through the window, minseok can feel the dream catcher sway, constricting electricity. his. for now, forever._  
  
"Are you to be my student?" He asks gently, standing before Sehun as if he towers over him. Minseok is no stranger to his own intimidating nature, gaze sharp as he awaits his answer.  
  
"Yes, of course," The boy responds, and it's as if he's holding back a snort of disbelief, manners absent as he shuffles from one foot to the other. "Did you not get the message I would be arriving today?"  
  
"Yes, I did," Minseok responds slowly, irritation flaring at Sehun's lack of respect. "It is quite natural to ask one's business when they are standing in my chambers. Many boys wander in here from the streets to ask for money."  
  
Minseok turns then, walking away from the boy and towards the benches near the bay windows, beckoning for him to follow. He does, if not reluctantly, dragging his feet as he walks and acting much like a boy of ten years that has not yet adjusted to the concept of formality.  
  
Minseok sits without a word, one leg crossed over the other as he waits patiently for the boy to sit across from him, still surveying him, taking in the sharpness of his features, the length of his fingers. He's a petty one, if impolite, and the pretty ones are always worth training.  
  
"It is also natural," Minseok continues, as if they had not moved and the conversation had not paused. "For one to be polite when they are meeting a man of higher status. You may have felt the need in the past show disrespect to teachers but you are living here, and I am your master."  
  
The boy blinks at him; he's clearly listening but he gives no indication he is, staring past Minseok and out the windows behind him. Minseok has to hold back the sigh that threatens to spill from his lips, leaning back against the bench.  
  
"What's your name?" Minseok asks, and he stills his almost tapping foot. Impatience is not needed here.  
  
"Sehun," The boy says evenly, and he's glancing around now. "You're a good artist."  
  
"Thank you," Minseok replies, and he's startled by the compliment; Sehun appears to not bring any manners with him, but there had been a quiet eagerness to his tone. The pretty ones really are worth training. "It's paid for this villa afterall."  
  
"Most of my past masters were not quite as wealthy," Sehun admits, and the carelessness is back in his voice, a boredom that Minseok supposes he can now explain as something of Sehun's experience; a distaste for his previous teachers. "But they were never that talented. Their work gained them nothing but a few fans on the streets. They made their living off of the students that came to learn."  
  
"The coins paid by the parents of students are often seen as less worthy than those gained from the virtues of a sold art piece," Minseok responds airily, and he has to hold back another sigh, stop himself from starting a rant sparked by his dislike of most others in his field. "Those who find failure in making a name for themselves often turn to pretending they can teach others to be successful, when in fact they are just creating a basis for more failure."  
  
"And are you a success teaching success?" Sehun asks, and it strikes Minseok as quite bold, has a smirk dancing fleetingly across his features.  
  
"I'm thirty years old," Minseok waves a hand at the room surrounding them; it's high arching ceilings and it's expensive architecture. "Most who I've taught -- some older than me -- from the age of twenty-seven have gone on to own villas such as these."  
  
"I would be impressed if your work was not strikingly similar to that of Botticelli's," Sehun remarks, and he's now wearing a smirk, one that Minseok is gleeful to remove.  
  
"Alessandro was one of my best apprentices," Minseok says and this time he does sigh, smile bright. "I taught him when he was fourteen. He's brilliant I think. More so than I am."  
  
Sehun's smirk disappears much as Minseok hoped it would, and he now looks mildly impressed, a little more eager, perhaps a tiny bit more respectful.  
  
"So why have you chosen to give yourself to another master?" Minseok asks curiously, and he lounges now, noticing a peculiar kind of lace underneath Sehun's thin but expensive tunic. "If the others did not do you well?"  
  
"I lack the passion for anything else in life," Sehun says simply, accentuating his point with a shrug -- something else that Minseok considers quite impolite. "It gives me something to do, and I do not pay for it so why care how many I go through until I find the right one?"  
  
"Tell me boy," Minseok says instead of giving Sehun an answer, leaning forward with more curiosity now, a better understanding of his new apprentice. "Do you have an interest in art?"  
  
The question is odd, not one that should be asked considering Sehun is here to learn about the arts themselves, has paid for it and prepared himself to live by it. Sehun however, only seems the tiniest bit startled by Minseok's forwardness, and by his suspicion.  
  
"I find it  _interesting,_ " Sehun says truthfully. "But no, I do not particularly have an interest."  
  
"Was this path chosen for you?" Minseok prods, gaze lazy but eyes still sharp. "Like many other paths are chosen for young men?"  
  
"It was an alternative," Sehun responds with another shrug; he looks like he might roll his eyes, and the irritation flares in Minseok again. "To a path I would rather not take."  
  
"Interesting," Is all Minseok says, and he's leaning back again, legs still crossed comfortably.  
  
"Why do you dress as if you are poor?" Sehun asks suddenly, hand waving at Minseok as if Minseok himself has not noticed the style of his clothes; simple, peasant's tunic and trousers, rather than the elaborate clothing of the rich and stylish.  
  
"Why are you wearing a women's corset under your clothes?" Minseok shoots back, and the effect is immediate, a flush rising to Sehun's cheeks, eyes averted away from Minseok and to the floor. "Not everyone is made to conform."  
  
"It is less shameful to dress like a peasant than to dress like a woman," Sehun responds, and he's tugging his tunic tighter around him as if to hide the corset, but Minseok can still see it.  
  
"You have nothing to be ashamed of here," Minseok tells him, and it's gentle, legs uncrossing from where they've been growing stiff. "We all have things we like; things we don't like. There is no shame in being different."  
  
"You sound much more like a real philosopher than my other masters," Sehun comments. His cheeks are still flushed red but he's calmed down, seemingly soothed by Minseok's gentle words. It's something that Minseok tucks away into his memory for later; a boy that likes praise is one easily taught.  
  
"That's because I am a real philosopher," Minseok says with a smile, and he's rising to his feet, beckoning Sehun to once again follow. "Enough of our introductions, though. You need to be fed and shown your room."  
  
Sehun agrees without so much as a shrug or an impolite word now, and Minseok thinks that he's met someone perfect to mold.

 

 

 

 

⚘

 

 

 

_Begin at the beginning... and go on till you come to the end: then stop. ~Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_

 

 

 

⚘

  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
"You know what they say? They say in the utopia the sun shines, and your skin can change colour if it touches you too long."  
  
A boy of ten sits on the rocks just inside the gate, watching with interest at the wolves that prowl just outside of it, pacing back and forth with low growls as they wait for their prey to venture outside willingly.  
  
A group of other children sit around him, ignoring the wolves, too enraptured by his tales, stories his father has brought back from utopia, from the new world.  
  
"They say that plants grow there, bright and green and luscious just like the ones in our textbooks," The boy tells them eagerly, skin pale under the light of the gate torches. "And sometimes when the sun goes away water falls from the sky."  
  
"That's impossible," A small girl calls out, chubby cheeks puffed out, pouting. "There's only water in the sea."  
  
"I'm not lying," The boy argues, indignant. "My father is on the committee, ask him!"  
  
Minseok smiles from where he's watching the children, amused by their wonder; amazed by their hope. There's a calmness to the late evening -- or he thinks it's late evening -- that often isn't achieved here.  
  
Sehun is back in their safe house, fast asleep, tired from the run back away from the wolves, and from a day's work in utopia. Sehun has been stubborn, refusing to take any time off working towards a new life for them all, even with the pregnancy.  
  
Minseok does understand why to a point. Sehun is the environmental science officer for the project, creating the rain, the plants, the heat of the sun that the little boy is speaking so passionately about. Their colony would be nothing without him, and Minseok has never felt so proud of  _his_  Sehun for being so important and so brave.  
  
It takes someone who's been through as much as Sehun to be that brave, to have the courage to change a world that they thought unchangeable; cursed and at it's end. And when he'd gotten pregnant, Sehun had become even more passionate, had wept his feelings out in Minseok's arms.  
  
"I want this child to have the life I never had."  
  
Sehun had cried the words out, had looked to Minseok with guilt in his eyes, had confessed that he'd only gotten pregnant because he'd run out of pills, had been too nervous to ask Minseok to borrow some of his own dwindling supply.  
  
And it had hurt, seeing Sehun so upset, so devastated at the thought that he could possibly ruin their child's life by bringing them into a barren dead world. So he doesn't argue when Sehun crawls out of bed when the sun is trying it's best to shine, a thin stream of light that breaks through the heavy clouds that have never gone away.  
  
He doesn't argue when Sehun insists on walking to the shuttle himself, insists on cooking his own meals. Sehun is stubborn, and he'll always be a brat; but that's what Minseok loves best about him.  
  
Perhaps what Minseok loves second best is the way Sehun's eyes flutter open when he crawls into bed behind him, the way he pushes back into Minseok's hold; hums softly, half asleep and half awake, murmuring a soft 'thanks' for earlier, for pulling him up and away from the wolves.  
  
And Minseok does what he always does, insists that Sehun never has to thank him for anything, because Sehun's happiness -- and their child's happiness, now -- is all he ever needs to feel thanked.  
  
"Utopia cycled through three days without anything breaking down today," Sehun mutters quietly, voice thick with sleep. "We're making steady progress. I wanted to tell you earlier but the wolves interrupted."  
  
"I'm so proud of you," Minseok says back, just as quietly, lips brushing against Sehun's ear before he settles in, tucking himself over his shoulder.  
  
"Even if we have a boy," Sehun continues, and he sounds  _so_  tired, exhausted. Minseok will force him to take a day off tomorrow. "Even if we have a baby boy, will I still be yours?"  
  
"You'll always be my baby boy," Minseok laughs softly, hand finding Sehun’s own under the covers. "Even when we're old and grey, laughing in utopia while our children watch over their children."  
  
"I'm glad."  
  


 

 

⚘

 

 

 

_"truth is singular  
its versions are mistruths -- Sonmi-451"_

 

 

 

⚘

  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Beijing Floor Sector -- Year 4063, The Slums**  
  
It's dark, the room only lit by a few candles here and there, wax melting and flames dwindling. Minseok pays them no mind, eyes attuned to seeing in near darkness, irises glowing under each flicker that lights up his features.  
  
He sits on the floor, legs crossed and large map unfolded across his lap -- the latest thing sent to him from Above -- eyes focused and lips muttering quietly as his fingers trace patterns. It shows the next section of the ventilation tunnels, an interconnected pattern of pathways that lie directly under the Sky Sector.  
  
The source is trusted, though Minseok has never met the Syndicates double agent Sehun, only knowing from Jongdae that he is of high status and high risk to himself by being involved with the Ground dwellers, someone unafraid to look down.  
  
And his maps are good -- detailed and immaculate, drawn in what Minseok assumes is near darkness such as that surrounding him, days spent wandering the tunnel system to map out it's contents, send Syndicate the details.  
  
They don't pay him, and Minseok often wonders why he does this of his own accord, -- a boy in his early twenties, according to Jongdae -- why he risks his life when he has so much to lose with a life in the sky. Then again, Jongdae was once a Ground Dweller, vaulted from the Floor Sector to the Sky Sector through a controversial marriage.  
  
A strategic marriage through the Kim Family condoned by another one of their high status double agents, a sharp witted heir to the Alliance's senior adviser. Come to think of it, Minseok isn't sure why any of them do it, why any of them help the Syndicate and their plans to destroy the Alliance and bring the Sectors together, but he's not going to start complaining now.  
  
The newer section of the tunnels seems cleaner than the last, only one part blocked off and easily detoured around. Sehun's messy scrawl that Minseok's come to know greets him in the margins of the page.

 

 

_Minseok,  
I have the master keys for all locked doors [marked red] in Sections 1 and 2. Am mapping the next section. You might need to blow some doors up? that I don't have access to, but Sec. 3 is unused/unguarded and should be safe noise wise.  
\- Sehun ; code no. 3073133_

  
  
  
  
Minseok's eyebrows raise slightly as he notices the multiple red marked doors, wondering what's inside. One particular room is labelled "generator" and Minseok shades it in, making a mental note to notify Soojung of a possible energy source. He reaches behind him for his notepad, scrawling a note to Sehun about energy reroutes and what the generator is used for, putting it aside with a mental note to give it to Jongdae when he arrives Ground level next.  
  
Jongdae's visits are few and far between, not being able to slip away enough to the Floor Sector without raising suspicion; he has no business there now, and one can only "visit family" a number of times before it's too much.  
  
Still, they've made slow progress, with Sehun and Minseok's constant anonymous decision making process. The idea of an unused section of the ventilation tunnels has Minseok intrigued, hopeful, a possible place for them to start constructing, to build a weaponry and perhaps a temporary living quarters where they could meet the double agents face to face.  
  
Minseok passes out on top of the map before he can think any further however, exhausted but smiling.  


 

 

⚘

 

 

 

_Be careful walking down the primrose path. You may find hell instead of happily ever after._

 

 

 

⚘

  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
Spence School is just as fancy as Sehun had expected it to be, a castle like building on 91st Street, high arched windows and eye-catching, ornate doors. She gulps in air desperately, pushing down the nerves that threaten to consume her, whispers of 'it's okay' bursting forth under her breath over and over again.  
  
She reminds herself that as long as she keeps her head down low, focuses on her studies and doesn't speak much, no one will ever know she isn't just a quiet rich girl from a condo in the Upper East Side. After all, her outfit is the same as everyone else's and the Subway lets her off far enough away from the school that no one would be around to see her exit.  
  
It's not that Sehun is ashamed of where she comes from; she's more scared, doesn't want to cause trouble for herself. She doesn't want to be distracted from her studies or bullied out back across the bridge.  
  
Her luck goes as far as the front steps of the school.  
  
"Hi!" A voice calls out to her, friendly and bright in a way that has Sehun looking up slightly hopeful, seeing a tall girl walking over to her, tie undone and skirt shortened. "Are you new?"  
  
"Uh-" Sehun stutters, startled by the girls intense gaze and her dazzling toothy smile. She's pretty -- in a puppy like way -- but something about her is intimidating, Sehun paling when the girl raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with Sehun's answer. "Uh yeah, I'm just starting today."  
  
"Nice nice," The girl responds, but nothing about her looks nice. She's smiling like a hyena ready to dive for prey, and Sehun wants to get away, walk passed her and into the safety of the lobby. "Where are you from? I don't think I've ever seen you around. And I  _love_  to know  _everyone._ "  
  
Something about the way she accentuates her words irritates Sehun, makes her more nervous than before and she takes a step backwards, fixing her features into something impassive; a practiced defense mechanism she picked up from facing bullies in middle school.  
  
"I'm staying at the Palace Hotel," Sehun manages to get out, saying the first thing that comes to mind and hoping she sounds as nonchalant as she thinks. "We recently moved to the city and our condo isn't done renovations yet. "  
  
"The Palace!" The girl says with a laugh, and much to Sehun's shock she reaches out and claps her on the shoulder, reminding her of something a boy would do to another boy. "My Mother is close friends with the owner of Palace enterprises! Have you and your family met her yet?"  
  
"I haven't accompanied my Mother on any of her social visits yet unfortunately," Sehun lies, hating the way the words sound on her tongue. She's already failed, hands clammy as the girl -- still nameless -- steers her towards the doors, walking cheerfully beside her as if they're childhood best friends. "I'm still working on learning my way around the city."  
  
"I'll have to come over to your suite sometime then!" The girl says, and her words are cheerful but her eyes are not, piercing right into Sehun. The disbelief is clear, and Sehun suppresses a shiver.  
  
"I'm Baekhyun by the way," The girl says and she holds out her hand. "I hope we can be  _great_  friends."  
  
The way she says it sounds menacing, threatening, dangerous. Sehun is going to hate it here.  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Canada, Unknown city; Year 2013**  
  
The first thing Minseok does when they get to his apartment is kiss Sehun.  _Hard._  There's nothing chaste about it, Minseok's tongue pushing past his lips to drag across his teeth. Sehun flails, freezes, internally dies, and eventually kisses Minseok back, gasping when their tongues meet, when Minseok's strong arms pin him to the wall, tongue tasting the roof of his mouth.  
  
When they break away Minseok is grinning, panting slightly and out of breath.  
  
"I've always wanted to do that, you're so hot," He announces gleefully, and Sehun is in shock, leaning against the wall and staring at Minseok with wide eyes. He shouldn't be surprised -- it's a very Minseok thing to do -- but it was still unexpected, and Sehun puts a finger to his bottom lip tentatively, as if the feel of Minseok against his mouth was a dream.  
  
" _I'm_  hot?" Sehun says incredulously, and somehow the ice is broken, nerves spilling away to familiar banter, Sehun rushing forwards to hug Minseok tightly, bending down to bury himself in Minseok's shoulder, make himself smaller. "I'm so happy I'm finally here."  
  
"I'm happy you're finally here." Sehun can feel Minseok's fingers thread themselves slowly through his hair, can feel the vibrations of his voice against his cheek, and it's heaven, the realization that he's here, he's with  _Minseok_ ; they can finally do things real in love people do, things like hold hands and make out and-  
  
Sehun flushes, willing his mind to stay in the cute innocent section of his brain, the one filled with thoughts of him and Minseok baking cookies together or snuggling on the couch watching Disney movies.  
  
Minseok pulls back from their hug, reaching up to ruffle his hair, a glint in his eye.  
  
"You need to unpack," He says, rubbing his hands together and padding off down the hallway with one of his suitcases, not waiting for Sehun to follow.  
  
It's the weirdest thing, seeing Minseok's bedroom in person. Sehun recognizes the posters on the walls; oversized printouts of his favourite idol. He recognize the blankets and even the doorknob, having seen it all through his computer screen before.  
  
Sehun touches the bed delicately, stares around the room as if he doesn't belong, nerves returning at the realization that of course, there's  _only one bed_  which means he'll be  _sleeping with Minseok every night_  and  _oh no this was so much easier with the safety of no physical contact._  
  
Minseok doesn't seem nervous as he flops down onto the bed, small hand reaching out to tug Sehun down beside him, eyes on the ceiling but playful grin on his lips. He doesn't let go of Sehun's hand, just hums happily, turning to face him.  
  
"I thought we were unpacking," Sehun says gruffly, feeling exposed under Minseok's intense stare; it's a lot different in person than it is online, deeper, with more emotion behind it.  
  
"You're more interesting," Minseok says quietly, and then he's giggling, childish and so very  _Minseok_. "Don't be so nervous," Minseok continues, and he leans forward, kisses Sehun gently in a way that Sehun thinks will have butterflies churning in his stomach for months. "I love you."  
  
"I know, I know," Sehun says, and it’s another thing that will have the butterflies escaping, the words sounding so much louder, so much more  _real_  now that Minseok is inches from him.  
  
"You're supposed to say it back," Minseok pouts, hand falling from where it's been resting curled around Sehun's nape.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sehun says and his eyes go wide. "I'm already messing up, I'm sorry."  
  
"No no, darling," Minseok says and his tone is almost authoritative -- something Sehun usually only hears during certain skype  _sessions_  -- sending a chill down his spine. "You've done nothing wrong. Come on. Let's eat and relax, you need to sleep after your flight."  
  
Sehun does sleep after a meal of Kraft Dinner --  _"Sorry I haven't had time to grocery shop"_  -- a movie about pandas and Minseok blissfully cuddling him, insisting on being the big spoon despite his size.  
  
Sehun does love him, and he's so,  _so_  happy to finally be where he belongs.  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
Minseok is a good cook, Sehun learns quite quickly, draining his soup in record time, tongue darting to lick at his lips and mouth watering for more. He doesn't dare actually ask for more, feeling more subdued than when he had walked, actually nervous to be around a master for once in his life.  
  
Minseok has a quiet authority about him, gaze casual but too much as he regards Sehun from across a large dining table. It makes Sehun drop his hands to his lap, has his fingers curling around the edges of the tablecloth, wooden spoon clattering too loudly in the bowl.  
  
"You cook well," He tries, words hanging in the air and feeling stuffy, atmosphere tense from their almost argument earlier. Though thinking back, it was less an argument and more a show of Minseok putting Sehun firmly but not harshly into his place. He hasn't felt the need to give someone respect in a long time, but something about Minseok's personality tells him that this isn't something he can get away with here.  
  
Sehun is stubborn though, set in his ways of thinking and prejudiced towards those of any authority, walls up and words hidden behind a veil of uncaring. It's practiced over time his attitude, and it's not going to take one stern lecture to break him.  
  
Still, Sehun wants the air between them to amiable, wants to  _succeed_  for this master and make his Mother proud for once, save the living fee florins for some new dresses, perhaps a larger house for them to reside in. He knows it's not easy for a woman to be on her own, and his Father's money will one day run out.  
  
"Would you like another bowl?" Minseok asks, pleased with the compliment. His words break Sehun from his musings and he glances up quickly, licking his lips apprehensively.  
  
"If that's alright." He nods, and his fingers curl deeper into the tablecloth, pulling it off center the tiniest bit. He hopes Minseok isn't the type to notice.  
  
Something about Minseok's establishment does catch Sehun's curiosity though, and he wonders why he didn't think of it the entire time he'd stood quietly by the door of the kitchen while Minseok busied himself cooking. "Do you not have a cook?"  
  
"I have no need for servants," Minseok tells him, and he seems oddly proud of this fact. "It's just me here, and I prefer it that way. I don't like people going through my things, or preparing my meals, or interfering when I'm trying to work quietly."  
  
"Will you expect-" Sehun pauses, retracts his words, tilting his head slightly in confusion as the words try to wrap themselves around his tongue the right way. "Will you be expecting me to take on a servant role?"  
  
"Not at all," Minseok looks startled, pausing beside Sehun as he places a bowl in front of him. "You'll be too busy with actual studies for anything of the sort."  
  
Sehun is filled with a kind of relief, a breeze that flows through him.  
  
Minseok sits back down across from him, returns to giving Sehun the same piercing stare he has been since he arrived. Sehun can't help but to study Minseok fully now, noticing that while he may be small, he's fit, shoulders broad and features striking, jawline accentuated finely and eyes dark and inviting.  
  
"You're staring at me," Minseok comments with a sly smile, single eyebrow raised as if he hasn't been doing the exact same thing.  
  
"You were staring at me," Sehun says indignantly, hand waving accusingly. It's an impolite gesture, but not one he cares to fix.  
  
"I was assessing you," Minseok says simply, and he shrugs now, mirroring Sehun's short answers and manner-less body language from earlier. Sehun could scowl, but he doesn't dare to cross any lines. "Eat up. The sun is setting and I'm getting you up bright and early for morning prayer."  
  
"I'm not religious," Sehun mutters, tips of his ears turning red in shame. His other teachers -- his mother -- have always scolded him, looked down upon him for more than one non conforming ideology.  
  
"Neither am I," Minseok says calmly, and Sehun blinks, confused. "I'm a philosopher, and one of our first lessons will be the start of leaving prejudice. You may not be religious, but to answer the question of why people are, you must see both sides of the argument."  
  
"You want me to experience it?" Sehun asks, and it might be one of the oddest practices he's heard. The other teachers had just given him translations of old Greek books, told him that philosophy is simply proving your opinion to someone else, holding an ideology that's pure.  
  
"Of course," Minseok says, and then he laughs; a real laugh, not the condescending chuckles Sehun has heard since arriving. "Besides, you need to get yourself into the habit of waking up early. It's better for the body and soul."  
  
Those are the last words Minseok says before he's cleaning the bowls away and ushering Sehun out of the kitchen, leading him to a smaller room, across from Minseok's own chambers and with a view of the large chapel in the East.  
  
There are horses painted into the ceiling, majestic with flowing white manes, and doors that look delicate, opening onto a small balcony.  
  
"This room is beautiful," Sehun says before he can stop himself, forgetting to keep the walls up in his awe.  
  
"Thank you," Minseok says from beside him, and he does look pleased, smiling at Sehun. "I decorated myself."  
  
And with that he bids Sehun a good night, closing the door behind him and leaving Sehun to sit on the edge of the four poster bed, eyes on the setting sun, and the clouds that lie beyond it.  
  
_Initium Novum_  He hears his mother say.  _A new beginning._  


 

 

 

_“The soul remembers what a person cannot - that is the unspoken rule.” - unknown_

  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
Minseok is making a dreamcatcher.  
  
He's not really sure what a dream catcher is, just that he had a dream about one; a device made with intricate designs with hanging tassels, something to take away the bad dreams.  
  
Dreams are important in Hatharat. They tell the future, are full of subconscious thought. A dream knows more about a person than they know about themselves, and therefore dreams are to be listened to.  
  
Minseok's first attempt at a dream catcher fails. He has nothing to go off of but a blurry image in his mind. He'd dreamt of a room, one with horses painted onto the ceiling, large doors opening to the brightest world he'd ever seen. It had shocked Minseok, had him walking through the room and towards the light like a ghost.  
  
But it was not the sunlight, the art, or even the scenery -- full of life and devoid of darkness, scarred Earth -- but the decoration hanging from the door frame. It had been beautiful, swaying in the quiet winds, and Minseok had  _known_. Had known what it was, what is was for, and he knew he needed to make one.  
  
For Sehun; to protect him from the nightmares that lack of sleep brings one, to protect the child from breathing in the bad thoughts that sometimes course through all of their veins, and to reminds him, for reasons Minseok cannot understand, of who they are.  
  
It's important he thinks, to remember who they are. Even if Sehun does not remember for himself, and Minseok barely remembers what the world was like before the sun disappeared. They need to cling to it, cling to that hope that utopia will be finished and that they can rebuild, from the inside out.  
  
Minseok hides the unfinished dream catcher, hopes that Sehun fails to notice a few missing shirts, having nothing else to weave it from but the very cloth on their bodies. He does however, greet Sehun at the door, help him into his favourite chair, move the matted bangs from his face, kiss him slowly.  
  
"I saw utopia today," Minseok tells him, somehow fitting himself into the small chair, wrapping himself around both Sehun and the child, around the two most important people in their melancholy life. "Not our unfinished utopia but the real utopia, in a dream."  
  
"What did it look like?" Sehun says, and he sounds tired today, more tired than he ever has been. Minseok won't pry, not until he's well rested and he can force him to take a day off, force him to stop being so stubborn, to understand that giving his child a better life than himself involves being alive to do it.  
  
"It was beautiful," Minseok says, and he feels choked thinking about it, feels choked for so many reasons that he can't quite put his finger on. "And it didn't have walls or a ceiling like ours will. It stretched so far, like the whole world had been fixed."  
  
"One day," Sehun says, and he seems choked as well, carefully taking Minseok's hand in both of his and staring at him with wonder, with love and with hope. "One day what we're creating in utopia will grow and it will become the whole world and we will succeed. Maybe not in our lifetime, but in our child's and their children."  
  
"Do you really think so?" Minseok asks, and he's startled to hear how hopeful he sounds, how sure he is that Sehun will succeed.  
  
"I think so," Sehun nods, and he does sound sure, like he believes it with his entire soul, clings to the idea that they will work it out. "Sometimes I think-"  
  
He breaks off mid sentence, licks his lips and looks confused, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
"Sometimes I think that this was meant to happen," Sehun continues, and he sounds almost like one of the preachers that stands near the gates and speaks of a past they do not remember. "I think we were meant to have a goal to work towards and that this time we can finally work, and we'll get it right."  
  
"What do you mean this time?"  
  
"Don't you ever feel that way?" Sehun asks him, edge of tired desperation in his voice. "Don't you ever feel like we've been through this before? Now  _this_  as in our situation but this as in us. I don't think this is the first time."  
  
"Like what the preachers say, with multiple lives," Minseok hums, and he can't help but to think of his dream, the landscape that had been so foreign and yet seemed so familiar, the tattered makings of a dreamcatcher that sits in a drawer in the bedroom. He thinks he might understand.  
  
"Exactly," Sehun murmurs, and he's nodding off now, pressing his cheek to the bare skin of Minseok's shoulder, eyes closing and lips parting.  
  
He's beautiful.

 

 

 

 

_See without looking,  
hear without listening,  
breathe without asking.  
~W.H. Auden_

  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
The tunnels have always been Sehun's favourite place.  
  
Dark, and with the illusion of being underground, of being beneath the Earth and not hanging in the sky; enclosed and safe and smelling of soil. Sehun feels safe here, freed from the confining nature of the Sky City, of his own quarters and of his Father's main villa.  
  
He walks through the corridors, skips over fallen rocks, and around barricades, seats himself right on the ground to sketch it, to remember every bit, every corner and every door, each one unlocked with a turn of a key.  
  
The key does not echo like the ones above, and the sound is muffled, quiet, something he loves, but will never get used to. This area of the tunnels is cleaner than the others, filled with dug out dwellings, scattered furniture.  
  
A midway point he thinks, the burrows where the original colony lived while they were building the city above. His body thrums as he continues to search, finding a large cavern, some smaller rooms.  
  
He'll have to make sure Jongdae understands the importance of this section, relay a message to the Syndicate's leader that he's found the ideal hiding place for them, the ideal place where they can construct the explosives that will destroy the Alliance and bring both the Floor and Sky to freedom; to unity.  
  
Sehun hopes his Father is caught in the blast.  
  
Sehun finds one room locked, beyond the key and hums quietly to himself. A small blast should open it up, much like the Syndicate had nearly a week ago, the tremors shaking the ground where he was seated near the entrance to UNIT 0412.  
  
He'd heard that the Syndicate leader was there, the mysterious Minseok he addresses his maps too, leaves notes for. They're like penpals almost, delayed conversations in scrawled handwriting, a rebellion leader and his main source to freedom.  
  
It makes Sehun feel important in a way; the direct communication rather than just relaying messages through Jongdae, and he's grinning as he settles himself down onto a bench, hunches over a small work table hidden in a room that can only be unlocked by himself.  
  
It's a hiding place of sorts, a workshop that only he knows about, that he's been visiting since he was young. The first place he'd discovered in the tunnels.  
  
He spread the sketches around him, closes his eyes and uses his photographic memory to map out the walls, the doors, which ones were locked and which weren't. An inventory of furniture and of a second generator source.  
  
He'll be sending them a new map after this one; the last section that Sehun knows well. The pathway back up to a life he neither wants nor needs, but a pathway that he will soon take to liberation; for his Mother and for the ground dwellers she once loved.

 

 

_Minseok,  
the final section is nearly done and I believe it's time we met.  
Mapping the tunnels has taken a lot of time, and if you are to be moving your base into the tunnels themselves, some things will need to be discussed with detail to the locked armory and the entrance to the Outside itself.  
\- Sehun. Code no. 3073133_

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

_So come on Love, draw your swords  
Shoot me to the ground  
You are mine, I am yours_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Canada, Unknown city; Year 2013**  
  
Sehun has never been so aware of someone else's presence before. Has never been so in tuned to the feeling of skin brushing his, or the leg that's thrown his body.  
  
He's never felt so  _surrounded_  by the warmth of someone else, and it makes him press back into a firm chest, has him sighing in a kind of contentedness he hasn't had in a long time.  
  
Sehun doesn't need to worry here. A foreign country holds no grudges, has no pressure, deadlines, people breathing down his throat, conservative relatives glaring at him over Thanksgiving.  
  
The only thing Sehun needs to worry about right now is the fact that he really needs to pee, the fact that when he wriggles to try and remove himself from the arms that are wrapped tightly around his waist, they only wrap tighter, more secure.  
  
And he nearly gives up, nearly collapses back into the warmth, but he needs to keep his good first impression on Minseok, needs to have him understand that Sehun is just as great a real life boyfriend as he is an internet one.  
  
"Minseok," He says quietly, frowning when Minseok doesn't move, doesn't open his eyes. "Minseok I need to pee."  
  
He says the last bit in his whinier voice, the pleading one he uses to get what he wants, to get Minseok to sing for him on skype. It works, Minseok waking up slowly and releasing him, grinning sleepily at him as Sehun pads away to the bathroom, splashing water across the insecurities splayed on his features, washes them off to be replaced by a happiness that only the knowledge of Minseok can bring.  
  
Sehun crawls back into the bed, feeling that strange happiness stay with him, even after noticing those little things that he can't erase in real life, can't put a filter over, or a smiley face at the end of. He could cry really, snuggling further under the blankets and into Minseok, who’s already fallen back asleep.  
  
The sun is rising slowly, and it's beautiful Minseok's bedroom window, streams of light igniting Sehun's easily pleased features. He's grinning, thinking about the tiny folded piece of paper in one of his bags, the schedule he and Minseok had constructed over skype, a plan for Sehun's visit.  
  
He tries not to think of the fact that it's just a visit, and that at the end of just a few weeks he'll be heading back home. Instead, he thinks of how beautiful Minseok is, for once not need to close his eyes and imagine.  
  
Sehun isn't sure how he's supposed to get used to Minseok being right in front of him, and he isn't sure how he's supposed to get used to Minseok touching him, Minseok talking, Minseok being  _real_.  
  
And it's not as if he wasn't real before, it's just that there's this wall online between you and the other person. No matter how close, no matter how platonic, romantic, spiritual, that wall is still there. Even over Skype, it's impossible to learn someone's unconscious habits, their twitches and the way they smile when they know no one's looking.  
  
Over the internet it's impossible to learn how someone smells, to learn what it's like to embrace them, to hear their voice in your ear and in your heart.  
  
As Minseok finally wakes up for good, tackling Sehun into the blankets, tiny kisses all over his face, neck, chest, the tips of his fingers; Sehun decides that he wants to learn every single bit of Minseok he can.  
  
Learn so he won't forget while he's away.  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
By "friends" Baekhyun had apparently meant personal servant. Sehun spends all day turning down Baekhyun's requests boldly but nervously, refusing to play petty teenage girl games. It's hard though, and Sehun finds herself on the receiving end of one too many glares.  
  
Baekhyun is popular, well known, extremely wealthy, and Sehun knows by her third day of class that she's stumbled into the wrong school, that she does not -- and never will -- belong here. And the worst scenario is going to happen, Baekhyun having looped her into agreeing to have her over at her place, agreeing to let her into a giant hotel suite that neither she nor her mother lives in.  
  
Sehun is thoroughly fucked, sitting on the front steps of the school and taking heaving, nervous breaths. She doesn't know what to do -- and she supposes she shouldn't care, that it shouldn't matter, but it's scary to know that these people have so much more power over her, that no matter what she does it'll be impossible to just focus on her studies and succeed.  
  
"You know," A voice interrupt her thoughts, a soft and yet self assured voice. "I live at the Palace Hotel."  
  
Sehun glances up from where she's had her face buried in her hands, long hair falling over her shoulders. The girl speaking with her is shorter than her, but curvy; her hair is a burnt copper colour, bangs choppy but perfect. In short, she's beautiful, or at least to Sehun.  
  
"So?" She answers, not caring if she sounds rude. It doesn't take a genius to figure out she doesn't live there, and she doesn't need some other trust fund bitch telling Baekhyun the truth, ratting Sehun out before she even has the chance to embarrass herself.  
  
"My Mother is a great actress. We've been staying there because we're renovating," The girl says and it's with a shrug, a glint in her oval eyes. "It would be easy to fool Baekhyun."  
  
"What?" Sehun asks, blinking like she hadn't heard the girl, looking her up and down with disbelief in her tone. "Why would you..."  
  
"I started out here just like you," The girl tells her, and she's smiling, sad but interested. "I mean, my Mother married into a rich family, but when I started here I was on a scholarship. I had nothing."  
  
"And now you have everything?"  
  
"No, I just have experience," The girl shrugs again, and she's reaching for Sehun's hand, taking it. It's a shock to Sehun, who pulls back quickly, never having been comfortable with sudden touch. "I know what it's like, to be terrified of whoever the Queen Bee is. And I like you, you've been standing up to her."  
  
"And I'm going to continue doing it without anyone else's help," Sehun says firmly, standing from the steps and glaring down at the girl. She really is pretty, in a dangerous kind of way. Not the same kind of danger that accompanies Baekhyun and her friends, but the kind of danger that nearly sends a shiver through Sehun before she's resisting, gulping and turning away.  
  
It's a lot harder to stand up to this girl for some reason, a lot harder to turn her down when something in Sehun tells her that she might just be genuine. But even if she is, Sehun doesn't need any help. She didn't grow up getting into fist fights with girls from the welfare block to shrivel under some prim girls with a little too much money.  
  
"My name is Minseok," The girl calls out behind her as Sehun stalks away, ready to turn down into the alley to take the long way to the Subway, just in case anyone sees her. "In case you change your mind."  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

_Just as there is no loss of basic energy in the universe, so no thought or action is without its effects, present or ultimate, seen or unseen, felt or unfelt. ~Norman Cousins_

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
Minseok remembers a time when technology was abundant. When the solar panels lit up the city and people thrived. Cooking, cleaning, bathing, luxury, it was all technology all the time.  
  
He also remembers its disappearance, remembers the towers crumbling and the sun going dark in the sky, covered by a black cloud that has never gone away. He remembers the darkness, and the cold, the shift from life to pure survival.  
  
He remembers finding Sehun, years younger than he and without memory of these events, the trauma that a child remembers but doesn't quite know the details of, memory undeveloped. Minseok remembers cradling the child in his arms, both of them covered in soot and crying, too young to take care of someone younger than him, but too stubborn to give him up, to let him out of sight, life.  
  
He remembers growing up with Sehun, accustomed to a world without light, to the sirens that howled every time the mutated wolves, ruined from radiation would attack. Minseok has always protected Sehun, has always cherished and coddled him, drawn to him even while they were children, and he can still remember the day he’d first kissed him. A scared nineteen year-old filled with the fear of losing the one person that had been by his side since so many had perished.  
  
There had been wolves that day -- the biggest ones they’d ever seen -- and Minseok had dragged Sehun, clothes tattered and skin ripped but okay, he was okay and that was all that mattered. And Sehun had apologized; it was his fault, he’d run off by himself, he’d wanted to gather some of the live plants they’d found, give them to the science team.  
  
Minseok had just stared at him, stared at him for a long time and told Sehun that the only thing that mattered was whether he was okay. It outweighed utopia, the new project the older ones in their colony had been working, it outweighed the darkness of their world; as long as Sehun was okay. And he’d kissed him, a tentative, innocent kiss, but one of many.  
  
And now here they are, Sehun in charge of the very team of people he’d always tried to help as a teenager, Minseok draped over the back of his chair, arms wrapped around Sehun from behind; one of the rare days Minseok ventures up to utopia with Sehun, watches him work with an intense kind of affection on his face, a gentle caress of his fingers once in a while. To remind Sehun that he needs to take breaks, that he needs to relax and let the numbers read themselves for a while.  
  
“I can’t just take a break,” Sehun grumbles,  _whines_ , and he’s so passionate, so beautiful with his eyebrows narrowed in concentration, voice soft even with the complaining tone it takes as he leans back into Minseok’s arms, tilts his head back and looks at him upside down. “This sequence, if I input it a certain way it can create rain again. It rained yesterday and it can rain today and I can’t stop until it happens.”  
  
“And it won’t happen if you work yourself so hard you’re too dead to operate the machine,” Minseok murmurs, kissing the top of Sehun’s head, breathing in the natural scent of his soft hair. “You need to eat something.”  
  
“What is there to eat?” Sehun asks, turning in his chair and rising to his feet, stretching, tiredness evident in the crack of his joints, the heaviness of his hunched stature. “I’m not feeling up to wolf meat today.”  
  
“You’re in luck,” Minseok says with an easy smile, leading Sehun over to the sofas, made from the soft fur of those few animals that survive in the darkness; a luxury only found in their tiny bubble of utopia. “Minhyuk and Hoseok have the replication machine up and running. They’ve made us some test packets.”  
  
“Are they edible?” Sehun asks, and he’s leaning forward, holding the condensed pack of nutrients and protein delicately between his fingers, as if nervous it may hurt him.  
  
“I tasted some of mine,” Minseok says, and he’s pulling it out as proof, taking a second bite, eyes crescents for the briefest moment. “They’re finally getting the recipe down.”  
  
Sehun looks ecstatic, sighing with relief as he chews into his own ration, leans against Minseok while they eat, shoulder to shoulder in a way that’s comfortable, familiar. “We’re doing field tests soon,” He tells Minseok in between bites, and with his excitement he looks fifteen again, young and naive and too beautiful. “If we’re successful, we may be able to start on expanding the walls of the terrarium. The soil is responding and the plants might just grow.”  
  
“The future gets closer everyday,” Minseok says quietly, and he smiles as he finishes his morsel of food, feels the weight of Sehun’s head leaning down against his shoulder; he’s still eating, lazily chewing as he dozes off, food still in his mouth. Minseok gently pries the pack from his hands and puts it down in front of them, tracing Sehun’s palms with his thumbs as he lets him rest.  
  
The future gets closer everyday.  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

_”I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for. “ -Georgia O'Keeffe_

 

 

 

╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
True to his promise, Minseok comes to wake Sehun early, rousing him from a deep slumber with the sun not yet in the sky, darkness seeming to loom through the windows. The cool early morning breeze that comes in has Sehun sighing as he wakes up, forgetting where he is as he rubs his eyes sleepily, as if he’s still a young boy and not a young adult.  
  
“If you learn the prayers quickly we can relax to watch the sun rise,” Minseok tells him, and he’s wide awake at this time, wearing comfortable airy clothing that shows off an ample amount of skin, as if his tunic was made for the old Greek Gods. “No being lazy.”  
  
Sehun just groans, head threatening to fall back to the pillows, but he stretches, sits up straight, trails his gaze across Minseok’s chest when Minseok leans forward to tug at his wrist. Minseok doesn’t seem to notice, but he does drag Sehun from the room still in his sleeping gown, causing Sehun draw into himself slightly, feeling exposed.  
  
It isn’t quite a case of embarrassment as much as it is insecurity; they are just two men after all, but Sehun is unsure of the boundaries, and unsure of the dress code Minseok imposes. Though he supposes he must not mind as he hasn’t sent Sehun back to get dressed properly, just leads him to the back terrace, one that overlooks the river.  
  
The view is splendid, the blue brick of a building visible on the other shore, a decaying bridge noticeable through the trees. It’s a curious sight, the trees and the water and nature; it feels as though they are not in Florence, but in a quiet villa by a river that winds through wilderness. It’s calming, and with the first sign of light on the horizon, Sehun nearly forgets why they’re outdoors.  
  
Minseok is watching him, expression passive, unreadable, and Sehun squirms under his gaze, stands up as straight, as dignified as he can in a sleeping robe, bows slightly.  
  
“I’m not going to go into the theology just yet of the prayers and rules,” Minseok announces, and Sehun can barely make out his features in the near darkness, fidgets when he’s unsure if Minseok’s eyes are meeting his or not. “That is further within our lessons, after the history and first education. But I will teach you some words.”  
  
Minseok sits then, beckons Sehun to sit beside him, knees touching on the wooden bench. It causes Sehun to become oddly nervous, a thrill running down his spine at the contact. He’ll have to explore this thought later, remember the touch of their skin through thin material as he holes himself up for sleeping.  
  
Minseok begins to speak, but stops when he hears Sehun interrupt, a noise of confusion.  
  
“Aren’t you doing that wrong?” Sehun asks, and he’s perplexed, having seen the act of prayer many times, from his mother, from his masters, from peasant women in the streets.  
  
“I don’t follow any religion,” Minseok says, and his eyes look curious as they glint in the rising light. “I follow a God, but the idea of Religion isn’t something that rests well. So I refuse rules and guidelines. One must follow their own soul to follow the Higher Power.”  
  
“I don’t understand-”  
  
“You will,” Minseok interrupts firmly, and he doesn’t give Sehun any room for more debate, placing a hand on his knee, gaze stern. “You will repeat as I say, and you will think of the words in your spare time. Remember them for when we begin the journey of Truth.”  
  
Sehun wants to say that Minseok sounds like one of the crazies that sways in the streets of Tuscany and Florence and other cities, preaching a spiritual rule that no Religion has, but he bites his tongue, nods and sits up straighter.  
  
He feels the need to prove himself to Minseok, something he has never felt the need to do, not even with his own Mother. So he sets his mouth into a straight line and repeats the words Minseok says, tries his best to remember the words, to think of them as more than just the babbling of the people that believe in Sky Spirits.  
  
When they finish, the sun is beginning to rise and Sehun feels tired, wearied from a lack of the proper sleep he’s used to, blinking in the growing light. “Why have we done a healing prayer?” He asks Minseok, gaze slanted sideways though he doesn’t properly turn his head to look at him. “What are we in need of healing from?”  
  
“That’s for you to decide,” Minseok says simple, and his hands are placed on his lip, tiny smile on his lips as he stares, not at Sehun but at the orange glow that lights the water of the river. “Everyone in their lives needs to heal from something, whether it be past, or future, dramatic or the tiniest cut from a sliver of wood.”  
  
Minseok hushes them then, takes his hands to turn Sehun’s gaze to the sunrise rather than tell him with words, and it sends the thrill through him again, a thrumming feeling that hasn’t accompanied Sehun with his other masters.  
  
It’s beautiful. Rays of light dancing across trickling clear water, reflecting off the marble of the outer walls of the villa, falling across Minseok’s sharp features as he sits comfortably beside Sehun. And it isn’t the prayer that sticks with Sehun when they finally stand, but Minseok’s earlier words.  
  
He thinks of his many prejudices, and his many hardships, and concludes that Minseok is most likely right. There are plenty of areas that need healing, though Sehun isn’t quite sure he believes a single prayer could fix each one.  
  
  


 

 

 

_“We are spirits clad in veils.” ~Christopher P. Cranch_

 

  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Beijing Floor Sector-- Year 4063, The Syndicate**  
  
The Syndicate is possibly the nicest place in the entire Floor Sector; high tech and sleek, with arching windows that show nothing but the deadly smog of the air outside.  
  
It’s nearly impossible to go outdoors without the aide of a heavy mask these days, and the ground dwellers have taken to using underground tunnels, intricate systems that span the length of the entirety of old Beijing.  
  
It’s for this reason alone that Minseok had raised the idea of the abandoned tunnels beneath the Sky Sector for a possible midway base, had asked Jongdae if they had anyone who could map them out. As ground dwellers they’re accustomed to navigating in the close darkness that a tunnel offers, used to flashlights and pale lamps.  
  
He does wonder how the Syndicate members will respond to knowing that they’re not really underground, that it’s thicker than a skyscraper is tall yet still in the air. That they’ll need to operate the old dragonfly machines, the ones with the dingy wings, bring themselves to the air vents, rise up in the air.  
  
It’s a lot to ask, but so is it to ask them to live in a dying world any longer. The clouds get thicker everyday, and though technology on Earth is abundant, Minseok fears that one day the sun will disappear, blot out and leave the world completely barren.  
  
Time is running out for them. The Alliance knows of their existence, knows what they want to do, and they could attack any month, any day.  
  
Minseok adjusts his heavy mask as he stands outside the Syndicate headquarters, sighs and shuffles the papers in his arms, brushes the dust from the dirtied air off them. The fingerprinting system has broken down again, too battered by the winds of the smog storms that attack the Floor Sector to read his mark.  
  
It's the third time this month, and yet another reminder of why they're doing this, why they're fighting back against those with piles of money, clean air, sleek and new technology. Minseok just sighs again, leaning against the wall near the door, not caring whether the dust leaves stains on his freshly ironed shirt. His fingers tap at his mask impatiently, and he ignores the sneer of the lower level Syndicate member that emerges from the building to let him in.  
  
Such is the rule of their organization that only the topmost members know its president, and each member only knows the members below and one level above. All communication is done secretly, and to another member, an upper level executive looks like just another pawn.  
  
And so Minseok doesn't scold nor even pay attention to the tired and judging eyes of the young man he nods to in the hallway, breathing in deeply once the mask has been removed from his face, scanning himself into the machine that actually works; one right inside the doors.  
  
"What happened with the machine?" Minseok asks curiously, leaning against a generator cylinder, eyeing the man as he lets his lungs relax, lets himself adjust to the shift in density from the Outside to the Inside.  
  
"I'm not authorized to tell you that," The man says cryptically, and it's condescending, nose stuck a little in the air as he resumes his position near the doors; he's a stationed guard, which tells Minseok he doesn't have enough authority to talk down to anyone.  
  
Minseok would very much like to reveal his status to this man out of pure contempt, but he's a professional, and he knows that they're all in this for the same reason. Instead he just nods, files a mental note to get Kyungsoo to forward him his personnel file, see if he can get re-positioned somewhere else. Teach the kid a lesson in manners.  
  
The elevator to the air ducts is rickety, shaking as it slowly rises, and Minseok is dismayed for a moment, mood plummeting with a fear that they're going to fall apart as a revolution before they can even begin. But then he remembers the papers in his arms, the final section of the map and the details of the Upper Syndicates new midway base.  
  
He's heading up to the tunnels, ready to explore them finally, to meet their double agent, sit down with him and properly plan their mode of attack. Jongdae has already been up to the tunnels since Sehun had opened the 3rd Section for them, and the weaponry agents are already stationed within, storing the chemicals for their attack.  
  
Minseok's mood lifts considerably as the elevator dings hollowly, signalling the highest point in the Syndicate. He runs a hand across the smooth glass that surrounds the air duct, humming as he pulls on the gliding wings that will bring him to the Sky Sector.  
  
The final steps are underway.  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

_“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”_

 

 

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
"You won't do good at this school if you keep acting this way you know," Baekhyun sneers, eyes sharp as she takes in Sehun's messily braided hair, and scuffed shoes from the dirty subway ground. "You may sit with me at lunch but if you don't start listening I'll make your life hell."  
  
"I've dealt with girls much worse than you," Sehun says with a shrug, leaning back in her chair, looking passive as usual. "There's really not much you could do to me."  
  
"You're good at hiding your fear," Baekhyun says, and Sehun hates that she's not wrong. Sehun is a bundle of anxiety, wanting to crawl home, under her blankets to make a nest, read her favourite books, wanting to admit to her fears, cry.  
  
"And you're good at hiding your acne with expensive make up," Sehun says instead, smirking at the shocked look on Baekhyun's face, at the glances of girls passing them. This is obviously not a natural occurrence, someone standing up to Baekhyun, putting her down, and Sehun feels oddly proud of herself. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to finish a lit assignment,  _alone_.  
  
She gets up from the table, lunch tray in hand and sweeps through the cafeteria without a glance back, without a care. If Sehun had looked back behind her, she would have noticed two things; one the badly disguised fury on Baekhyun's features, and two, the curious cat-eyed gaze of a girl, watching her leave with a smirk curling onto her lips.  
  
_Alone_  turns out to be a table in a nearly abandoned corner of the library, Sehun using her binder as a pillow, long hair fanning out, wavy from where she'd had it braided earlier. She doesn't really have a lit assignment to do, just needed an excuse to get away from Baekhyun, to think about her first few days at school and her "new friend."  
  
She doesn't really know how to get out of Baekhyun coming to the Palace Hotel at this point, doesn't know how to fix the lie she's woven, and though Sehun is one to stand up to petty bullies, isn't one to back down or hide, this one seems out of her league.  
  
Lying isn't really something Sehun can condone, can bounce back from, and she's half-napping, half worrying when she hears the shuffle of someone sit down beside her, the thunk of a textbook. She nearly groans aloud, thinking it must be Baekhyun, surrounded by her many annoying minions, but a softer voice catches her attention instead, familiar and also not entirely welcome.  
  
"That's some lit assignment you got there," Minseok laughs, looking entirely too comfortable seated beside Sehun, perfect eyebrows raising as Sehun looks up, glares through messy bangs. "You've developed quite the following you know."  
  
"Following?" Sehun asks, and she's curious. She hasn't spoken to anyone since transferring here aside from Baekhyun and Minseok, and she doubts Minseok counts on that front. "How?"  
  
"People pay attention," Minseok says, and she's smiling cryptically. Or perhaps it's just her smile, the way her gaze stays sharp even while her lips are curling into a grin that makes her seem cryptic, secretive. "People are scared of Baekhyun. She's had entire social careers ruined."  
  
"It's a good thing I have no interest in a social career then, isn't it?" Sehun says in an uninterested voice, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She gives in, rolls them anyways and sees the way Minseok's seems to look even more secretive.  
  
"And yet she's going to the Palace soon to see your suite. She's even made it an event," Minseok says with a sigh, as if she's used to Baekhyun's antics.  
  
"An event?" Sehun asks, and the nerves crack through in her voice, lisp noticeable, chest sinking.  
  
"Everyone knows she's going," Minseok says simply, and the way she sounds so casual, so uncaring infuriates Sehun.  
  
"And I suppose you still want to help me with this?" Sehun asks, and her voice is nearly scathing. She doesn't know why she's so against Minseok's help, doesn't know why she's so stubborn, but she just  _is_.  
  
"The offer still stands," Minseok says, and she's getting up out of her seat, reaching out a hand to tuck Sehun's hair behind her ear. "And it's not because i see you as some charity case. You're interesting."  
  
Sehun thinks about what she meant by  _interesting_  for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Unknown city; Year 2013**  
  
"The first real day of your miraculous trip," Minseok announces over breakfast, and he looks silly waving a spatula, wide awake, smile blissful. "What are we going to do?"  
  
"Go back to sleep," Sehun mumbles, head pillowed in his arms, cheek touching the cool wood surface of Minseok's dining room table. He proves his point with a loud yawn, pressing more into his arms. Sehun, unlike Minseok is nowhere near a morning person, doesn't have the same amount of pep.  
  
"You wouldn't be so tired if you would just drink a cup of coffee," Minseok tells him, turning back to his scrambled eggs, sizzling of the pan music to Sehun's tired ears.  
  
"Poison," Sehun mutters, voice muffled by his arms, breath hot against his skin.  
  
"I'll hit you with this spatula," Minseok says playfully, and this wakes Sehun up a little, has a giggle coming from his mouth.  
  
"I'd probably like it," Sehun says bravely, and he doesn't miss the way Minseok's eyebrows momentarily shoot up into his hair. It's rare that Sehun is the one to make inappropriate comments, and there's something feral about Minseok's smirk in person; he's more radiant, more tempting when Sehun could just reach out and touch him, could feel that smirk touch his own lips.  
  
"Kinky," Minseok quips, shoving the eggs onto plates and onto the table, sitting beside Sehun rather than across from him. He pokes Sehun's cheek to get him to lift his head up, and his smile is too gentle, too warming. It makes Sehun's stomach swoop dangerously.  
  
"Scrambled eggs, so kinky," Sehun says sarcastically, and he ducks to avoid Minseok's fake swipe at his head, laughing. He doesn't even need to stop and control his breathing, doesn't need to worry about what he looks like while he laughs.  
  
"We can be kinky after breakfast," Minseok says jokingly, but there's something in his eyes, an intensity that tells Sehun it isn't really a joke, more of a promise. "Maybe  _that's_  what we'll do for our first day."  
  
Sehun just eats, ears turning scarlet. If he makes a comment, tries to speak out loud or joke, he's sure he'll give himself away, become the whiny and needy person he can be over skype, the one that covers his eyes with his hands, is shy even when he comes.  
  
He presses his legs together, hoping Minseok doesn't notice that the scrambled eggs suddenly feel very kinky.  
  
-  
  
It's only later that Minseok acts on his joking promise, presses Sehun back into the faded cushions of his couch, kisses him slowly, sensually,  _thoroughly_. It's sudden, Sehun dozing off and thinking about blueberry pie one minute, to Minseok straddling him the next, looking intent on devouring him, eyes impossibly dark.  
  
"Hyung can I-" He asks, cuts himself off and twitches, nervous.  
  
"Can you what?" Minseok smirks, curls fingers into the front of Sehun's chest. Sehun feels too hot all of a sudden, feels as though no clothes separate them, the touch of Minseok through the fabric enough to have him coming to life. "You can do whatever you want."  
  
"I don't know what I want," Sehun admits, nervously puts his hands at Minseok's waist. "I just want you."  
  
Minseok doesn't right away, just kisses Sehun again, tongue tracing his teeth, tangling with his own, teeth sinking lightly into Sehun's lip before he's pulling away. He tilts Sehun's head to the side, kisses gently along his throat up to his ears.  
  
"Wanted to do this the second I saw you at the airport," Minseok says quietly in his ear, hands sliding up underneath Sehun's shirt, fingertips brushing skin lightly --  _too_  lightly. "You looked so cute, all ruffled and confused from your trip."  
  
Minseok kisses his earlobe then, nips at it, tugging gently before trailing kisses across Sehun's jaw, tongue tracing its way along Sehun's bottom lip before slipping inside. Sehun whines quietly, unsure of where to put his hands, unsure of how to respond.  
  
This is a lot different than touching his own dick on camera. This is the real thing, Minseok's body hard against his, Minseok's thumbs brushing past his nipples, Minseok's tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth.  
  
It's almost overwhelming, and Sehun is panting when Minseok pulls away, flushed and embarrassed, but turned on, _happy._  
  
"You're so hot," Minseok mumbles, and Sehun nearly snorts, nearly laughs, pulls away completely, but Minseok rolls his hips, kisses him again, and Sehun forgets the retort that rests on the tip of his tongue.  
  
"You've-- never done this before right?" Minseok gasps, but he doesn't stop rolling his hips, speaks with his lips still touching Sehun's, small hands curling around Sehun's shoulders. Sehun just moans, thrusts up, hips meeting halfway.  
  
"It's okay," Sehun says, and it's more of a whine than actual words, making him blush again. "I trust you hyung."  
  
"I'm glad," Minseok whispers, grinds down in small circles, breath hot on Sehun's face, hand gripping the back of his neck to pull him in for a harsher kiss, a mess of tongue and teeth. He's a good kisser, better than Sehun ever imagined, ever fantasized about with his knees pulled up to his chest, two fingers inside himself in the shower.  
  
It doesn't take long, Sehun moaning loudly, back arching into Minseok as he comes inside his sweats, overwhelmed by the friction; lets himself fall backwards as Minseok leans forward, continues grinding until he himself comes.  
  
Minseok collapses on top of him, heavy but comfortable, still kissing Sehun, gentle slow kisses, the kind that make Sehun's thoughts cease and his mind woozy. Sehun feels sleepy now, needy and content, wanting to stay here like this for the rest of the day, Minseok placing soft butterfly kisses to his nose, to his lips, to his cheeks, but he's sticky.  
  
"Is it too early in our physical relationship for a shower?" Minseok asks, and his voice is teasing, irises dancing as he wraps his legs around Sehun's waist, rests his head on his shoulder.  
  
"I-" Sehun stutters, flushing again, nervous, shy, unsure. "If that's okay?"  
  
"Of course it's okay," Minseok says quietly, and it's reassuring, comforting, beautiful. "Everything's okay with you. I love you."  
  
"I love you too hyung," Sehun says, and he's still shy, hiding his face when Minseok sits up straight, whines when Minseok tries to tug him up from the couch.  
  
"Just like a baby," Minseok tuts, but he looks fond, runs a hand through Sehun's hair, bending down to kiss the top of his head.  
  
"Your baby?" Sehun asks hopefully, and he widens his eyes, smiles coyly, makes sure to bat his eyelashes for good measure.  
  
"You could be," Minseok answers casually, but there's a kind of possessiveness in his gaze, as if Sehun's triggered something unexplored. "You could be."  


 

 

 

  
_“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?” - Marianne Williamson_

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"You're singing with just your chest," Minseok scolds, stopping Sehun mid-note and lowering his hand from where he'd been conducting, taking Sehun through the melody of a composition. "Remember to mix them. Use your chest with your head voice. Don't push with your chest voice or you'll sound strained."  
  
"I already sound strained," Sehun protests, and he's resisting the urge to cross his arms, resisting the urge to be an utter brat. "I'm not a singer."  
  
"And that's why you're here to learn," Minseok answers brightly, and he sounds like a cheerful old man for a moment, smile bordering on evil.  
  
"I thought I would be learning art and music," Sehun mutters, and it's so quiet he doesn't expect Minseok to hear, but he does, laughing softly.  
  
"Singing is a part of music as music is a part of art," Minseok says, and something about the way he says it has Sehun putting it away to remember later, the timber of his voice. There's something delicate about the way Minseok speaks, and it causes Sehun to think of citrus fruit; tangy and smooth. "I'm not the greatest singer myself you know."  
  
"How can you teach something you yourself are not good at?" Sehun asks, and he believes he has a right in his confusion. "Doesn't a teacher need to be a master at his trade in order to pass it to someone else?"  
  
"And weren't you ever told that one can help themselves learn by attempting to teach to someone else?" Minseok asks back, and it startles Sehun, has him pausing.  
  
"I have been told that."  
  
"Exactly," Minseok says, and his voice is bright again. "I may not be the kind of singer that leads a choir, but I have enough technical knowledge, and enough passion to help someone else develop that passion."  
  
"And if I cannot develop this passion?" Sehun asks, mouth feeling dry. "What will you do with me then?"  
  
"Find your passion," Minseok replies in a quieter voice. "You said yourself that you do not have any particular fields of interest in art."  
  
"I believe I don't have any particular fields of interest in life," Sehun says truthfully, admitting easily, tired from a day of straining his never used vocal chords.  
  
"I've got quite the job ahead of me, don't I?" Minseok laughs quietly, and something about the way he says it tells Sehun that he's speaking more to himself than he is to anyone else. It has a strange effect on Sehun, causes him to feel like a burden, when he has never before cared of how his presence alters other's lives.  
  
"Would you want to stop for a while?" Minseok asks then, standing close near Sehun, hands resting on his shoulder. It doesn't feel familiar, like the way a man rests his hand on a friend's shoulder. Rather it feels authoritative, firm; has Sehun standing straighter by some magic he himself does not yet understand.  
  
Of course I would like to stop," Sehun mutters, and he's glaring at Minseok now, annoyed at Minseok's casualness, at how he doesn't seem to notice or care for Sehun's apparent irritation. Like a bird high in a tree ignoring the impatient yowling of a hungry cat below. "I've expressed my hatred for singing."  
  
"Lunch then," Minseok announces, and if he's offended by Sehun's words he doesn't show it.  
  
-  
  
They eat in near silence, Sehun once again feeling as though Minseok is assessing him across the table, gaze as intense as it had been over their first dinner, and over their breakfast after prayers. He's watching Sehun's every move, studying him with naturally large eyes, and it puts Sehun on edge, has his hands shaking as he pops berries into his mouth, pulls the skin from fruit.  
  
"You listen well for someone who claims to carry a lack of respect for others," Minseok comments, prompted by what Sehun doesn't know.  
  
"You command authority," Sehun answers simply, and he's embarrassed by his answer, angry flush creeping its way up his neck. Minseok causes him to admit easily, to spill truths and put forward rigid manners, though he is yet to see the reward for such actions.  
  
"Do I?" Minseok asks airily, in such a way that Sehun is unsure of the seriousness of the question, if he is to answer or not. "I suppose I must," Minseok answers for him, and he too is eating berries. Sehun cannot help but to follow the way his tongue gently traces a berry before he pops it into his mouth.  
  
"Can you write?" Minseok asks, and it's another sudden thing, coming from what seems to be nowhere prompted by nothing.  
  
"Of course I can write," Sehun replies, and he's offended. "My schooling is-"  
  
"No, I mean can you  _write?_  Minseok stresses, emphasis confusing Sehun. "poetry, stories, books, can you write?"  
  
"I've never tried," Sehun says, and he frowns then. His previous masters had never taken him out of his comfort zone, had instead forced him into things below his level, making him repeat the same art lessons under their own rules, as if the masters before them were useless. He's never tries so many new things so quickly; prayers, singing, and now creating words to become art from his brain.  
  
"We'll try that tomorrow I think," Minseok muses, and he's cleaning up their bowls in a flurry, reappearing with an air of impatience. "For now we'll continue singing. You're to learn scales."  
  
After an hour longer of forcing his throat to create sounds he's not sure he  _can_ , Sehun nearly wishes Minseok would keep him in his comfort area.  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

  
_“Hold fast to dreams, For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird, That cannot fly.” - Langston Hughes_

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
The first real problem with utopia comes just days after the newest breakthrough. A valve breaks, the one that supplies the rain and the utopia prototype floods, destroys valuable technology, a generator.  
  
Sehun is in hysterics, sobbing in Minseok's arms, convinced that utopia is over, that they'll never be able to move on, _everything is ruined._  He's still crying four hours later, long after the gates have closed for the night, and Minseok has tried to get him to eat.  
  
"Sehun, it's fine," Minseok says for what seems like the thousandth time, trying to keep from sounding exasperated, from snapping. "They even told you. It's just a setback. A month at most and then we'll be back on track."  
  
  
  
  
"But it's my fault," Sehun hiccups, and Minseok softens at the look on his voice, softens at how broken, how  _guilty_  he sounds. Sehun's hormones are out of wack, he has a child within him and Minseok needs to be patient, needs to be the protective barrier.  
  
"It's my fault," Sehun insists, and he looks so upset, so confused, hopeless. "I didn't close it properly last day when we were leaving. The pressure built and it's my fault."  
  
  
  
  
"People make mistakes darling," Minseok tells him, and he holds both of Sehun's hands in his own, kisses his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. "Utopia is  _fine_. It'll be okay."  
  
"I can't help but to feel so guilty," Sehun murmurs, and he's calming down now, reaching around Minseok for an herb, a few berries to stuff into his mouth, looking childish. "Like I'm going to walk back in there to help with repairs and everyone will  _hate_. They'll look at me and think 'that's Sehun, he ruined our future.'"  
  
"You know they won't," Minseok says soothingly, and he plucks a berry from Sehun's fingertips to feed it to him, smiling gently when Sehun pauses to wrap his lips around Minseok's finger like a baby. "They love you there, and one tiny hiccup isn't going to erase the fact that you've done the most out of anyone for this community and for our future."  
  
"Can we pretend tonight?" Sehun asks, and his voice is small, so small that it nearly breaks Minseok's heart. "I know we stopped when I got pregnant. Because I'm supposed to be strong, and I'm supposed to not be a baby. But you said I would always be your baby boy. Can i be that right now?"  
  
"Of course baby," Minseok says quietly, and he's pulling Sehun down into his lap, fondness overtaking him as Sehun attempts to make himself smaller even with his stomach too large, attempts to curl himself into Minseok, tuck himself under MInseok's chin. "Anything for you."  
  
"Thank you," Sehun says, and he's mumbling, voice quiet, tired from his tears. "I'm just scared. We've worked so hard and I don't want everyone's lives to be ruined because of me."  
  
"You have nothing to worry about," Minseok assures him, and he hopes that even just for a moment, Sehun believes him. That just for a moment Minseok can provide the protection, the love he needs,  _deserves._  "When utopia is finished and we can sit outside under the warm sun, everyone will remember that it's  _you_  who figured out how to make it shine for longer than an hour. And when it rains, they'll remember that it's  _you_  that configured the water density."  
  
"And they'll remember," Sehun starts, but he stops, looks up at Minseok as if he needs permission. Minseok just smiles, nudges him to go on. "And they'll remember that it's you who stood by my side and kept me safe and kept me sane and helped me always."  
  
"I don't need to be remembered," Minseok tells him, voice soft. "I'm just your loyal Dal-Path.”  
  
"You should be remembered," Sehun insists, and his eyes are bright now, sparkling as he looks at Minseok like he's the only thing in their dying world. "Without you I would have given up trying to mix chemicals to make light when it didn't work after months of trying. Without you I would have no one to hold me through my breakdowns and no one to tell me when to go on."  
  
It's Minseok's turn to feel overwhelmed, to let emotions come up to his throat, and he holds Sehun tighter, wraps a blanket around them and their unborn child, whispers words of love into his ear.  
  
"Just a little longer," Sehun murmurs,  _whispers,_  as he falls asleep. "Just a little longer and we'll all be okay."

 

 

 

 

  
_“Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” - Samuel Beckett_

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
The first thing Minseok notes about the tunnels is that he can tell they're forged by man. Built into the sky and surrounded by concrete, held up by the vast air ducts, whirlwinds that ever stop. It's a strange thing to notice, but he does, smelling the soil as if it were poisoned, fingertips running along a cave wall, the feel of synthetic Earth beneath them.  
  
There's also an emptiness to them, a pressure that Minseok can feel instinctively, as only one who has never been to the Sky Sector can feel. It's strange but uplifting, the knowledge that he's halfway to where he wants to be, a midway point between Hell and Heaven.  
  
He walks through the tunnels using the maps in his hands, the ones drawn by the mysterious Sehun, fingers tracing the lines etched into the thick paper, directions to the 3rd Section, where he'll meet the weaponry team, and then onto the 4th Section, the final one that holds the key to the Sky City.  
  
Minseok wonders if he'll meet Sehun there, as Sehun has promised in his latest note. Minseok had nearly declined from fear of his identity, but Sehun has done more for the Syndicate than anyone else besides its founder. Minseok owes him a face to face thank-you, an apology and reward for the work he's put in.  
  
And Sehun owes Minseok a backstory; the w's of his reasoning for helping the Syndicate. Joonmyun had his reasons, therefore Sehun must have his. And it confuses Minseok, the mystery behind Sehun's status, the ease in which he moves from the city to the tunnels, unsupervised.  
  
He's clearly someone of a high status or rank, someone of importance, and thus it perplexes Minseok further. It's hard for him to think of someone managing to see through the Alliance's propaganda, someone managing to feel for the Ground dwellers without a human connection, without a past experience or reason.  
  
Minseok hums as he walks, pleased when his voice echoes back quietly. The walls are thick but buoyant, perfect for detonating, but also perfect for caving in. He now understands the amount of blocked passages, probably destroyed by the tremors of the construction above in the Sky Sector.  
  
Minseok knows he's reached the 3rd Section when he hears voices, one he recognizes and others he doesn't. He rounds a corner and comes face to face with Jongdae, who's smiling brightly and directing people towards different rooms.  
  
This Section is easily discernible from the others. It looks more like an underground dwelling, rooms set up with doors, walls, windows even, and he can see now why Sehun chose it as a base.  
  
"So this is where they lived while building the city," He murmurs, walking up beside Jongdae and surveying the many hallways, the many rooms.  
  
"Are you going to move up here as planned?” Jongdae asks him, wasting no time with greetings, formalities.  
  
“I need to meet with Sehun first,” Minseok says, though he would like the idea of staying at the centre on of the action, watching over the devices as they’re constructed. “Is there a room suitable for me?”  
  
Minseok had been expecting the room to be dingy, probably dirty with a tiny cot, but what he finds instead is a luxury bedroom, complete with a half bath -- though the plumming seems to have stopped working.  
  
It's a little dusty, but aside from that it's nice. There's a small desk, an empty mattress, and an armchair, sitting next to a hollowed out window that look into the corridor. Minseok will have to see if they can cover the window up -- he's fond of his privacy, and this will be his home for the next few months.  
  
"You can stay here starting tonight if you'd like," Jongdae says from somewhere behind Minseok, peering around his shoulder into the small room. "They're bring up linens soon."  
  
"I'll have to make frequent trips from here to the surface but it's a shorter distance than my actual house," Minseok muses, sitting down on the bed and grimacing slightly. It's not that comfortable, stiff underneath him and will probably give his back hell. He can't complain though; he gets to oversee the most important part of their mission from the frontlines, gets to watch their dreams come to life before them.  
  
"Sehun should be waiting for you," Jongdae tells him before he leaves, stack of blue prints, plans, left on the dusty desk. "He's probably waiting in the unexplored section. I think he wants to meet you and go over his plans together."  
  
"Would it be strange of me to be nervous?" Minseok laughs, and he feels lighter for just a moment. Blue skies are just around the corner; literal clear skies, without smog, without masks, without a dangerous group of too powerful controlling one nation and brainwashing the other.  
  
"He's just a kid, really," Jongdae says, but he too laughs lightly along with Minseok. Minseok has only ever seen Jongdae laugh with his husband, and it's refreshing, uplifting even. "Damaged, but just a kid."  
  
It doesn't stop Minseok's nerves from catching, doesn't stop the jitters in his stomach, even as he observes a few lower level Syndicate personnel being instructed on how to connect wires, on how to detonate without casualties.  
  
There's strength here, in the Ground dwellers, and Minseok hopes this Sky dweller has the same amount.  
  
  


 

 

  
_Listen to the silence, let it ring on. Eyes, dark grey lenses frightened of the sun._

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
Sehun breaks a week later, sitting across from her Mother at the kitchen table, caged look in her eyes when her Mother asks how school has been going.  
  
"You've just been so quiet about it dear," She presses when Sehun doesn't answer, fiddling with her peas the same way a child would. "I'm just worried. Have you made any friends"  
  
"I have," Sehun says defensively, and it comes out harsh, along with her signature frown, the corners of her mouth turning down unattractively. "Her name is Minseok, and she's very pretty."  
  
"And she doesn't look down upon you?" Sehun's Mother asks, and she does look worried, fingers loosely curled around her fork as if she's unfocused, doesn't care if it drops.  
  
"Not at all," Sehun assures, and she's not sure why she's telling her Mother Minseok is her friend, not sure why she's remembering details of things Minseok's told her, not sure why she doesn't just tell the truth. "Her Mother married a rich man. She came from the same demographic as us. She understands."  
  
Sehun's Mother seems to soften as this, relaxes in her seat and grips her fork more steadily, going back to eating as if nothing had happened. "I'm glad," She tells Sehun in between mouthfuls of vegetables. "I want you to bring prosperity to our family, but your happiness is the most important. I'm glad you're happy at this school and that you have someone to guide you."  
  
The guilt of Sehun's actions and the weight of her Mother's words keep her up for a long time that night, blankets tucked between her legs, arm trapped underneath her pillow as she thrashes around, unable to sleep.  
  
She probably should give Minseok a chance, should let her help her, be her friend. And it's not that Minseok seems dangerous; she's nice, with a mystery about her Sehun wants to solve, and she seems genuinely interested in being Sehun's friend, for whatever reason she can't quite figure out.  
  
To say it's confusing is an understatement. Perhaps Sehun just isn't used to people openly being nice to her, isn't used to being anything other than the awkward girl she's always been, the one others try to bully but can't seem to affect.  
  
Minseok is assertive, good looking and seems to despise Baekhyun, one thing that makes her different from every other girl Sehun's noticed at this dumb school.  
  
Maybe she deserves a chance.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Unknown city; Year 2013**  
  
When Minseok kisses Sehun in public -- witnesses and everything -- Sehun is shocked. He pulls away, goes pale, looks around for hate, for stares, for parents covering their children covering their parents eyes.  
  
And that's when he really realizes he's in Canada now. It's okay here, to not be straight. It's okay here to hold hands on a public bus, to buy couple items at a store, to kiss in the park. It's not home anymore, and it makes Sehun's heart soar, before it falls only the slightest bit.  
  
He can't stay here forever.  
  
"Are you okay?" Minseok asks, and he looks concerned, slipping his hand out from Sehun's, ready to take a step back. Sehun stops him, grabs his hand again almost desperately, shakes his head.  
  
"It's fine," He assures Minseok, sighing and kicking at a leaf that's fallen prematurely to the ground. "I'm just not used to it so I wasn't expecting that."  
  
And Minseok looks like he wants to say something, wants to apologize further, but Sehun just shushes him, tugs at the hand he's grabbed and points towards the indoor market with its tall towers.  
  
"You said there's a tower here right? Is it like Namsan Tower?"  
  
"Not quite," Minseok laughs, and everything is okay again; the tension broken. "It's nice though. You can see the river and a lot of the city."  
  
"Let's go," Sehun says excitedly, and he's a little kid, dancing through the market, stopping to stutter in his broken English to get some bubble tea; taro, extra bubbles. "Can we take pictures?" He asks when they're in the elevator, chewing on the bubbles blissfully, leaning into Minseok's side more comfortable now that they're alone. "We need photos together."  
  
"Of course," Minseok says and the look he gives Sehun is so fond, arm slipping itself around Sehun's waist, fingers unconsciously playing with the hem of his shirt. "There's no one up here! We're lucky."  
  
It's a tiny platform, and the view is nowhere as nice as anywhere in Seoul, nowhere as luxurious, but to Sehun it's like he's seeing the world for the first time. He rushes forward to lean against the rails, grinning wide and laughing, turning back to Minseok with excitement.  
  
He can't describe the feeling, being here with Minseok, but he knows it's special, knows Minseok is special when he kisses Sehun again at the top of the tower and they're in public, but they're so high and Sehun feels special.  
  
And that's what's most important to Sehun. Feeling special. He likes this feeling here, the way Minseok is always touching him, always paying attention only to him, pointing out land marks, explaining the way the river cross and meet each other; the special events that occur all year, where the New Year's fireworks are released when it's so cold that people watching need to huddle together for warmth.  
  
He's really glad he came.  
  
"I'm really glad I came here," Sehun says suddenly, and he blushes, hand flying to his mouth when he realizes Minseok's still in the middle of his sentence, stopping to look at Sehun in mild confusion -- or is it mild amusement? Sehun can't tell. He can never really understand Minseok's facial expressions, only knows that he loves them.  
  
"Are you?" Minseok asks, and he looks genuinely curious, leans forward into Sehun's personal space with an intense kind of stare.  
  
"I wish I could stay."  
  
"Maybe one day you will," Minseok says cheerfully, though there's a kind of hope in his voice, the kind of vulnerability Sehun's heard before, but not often. "Finish school and come be my sexy roommate."  
  
"I'm messy," Sehun says playfully, and he's turning away from the city view to look at Minseok directly, lips quirked into a crooked smile, eyes shining. It's late evening by now, and he can feel the sun ready to set, hovering bright orange in the sky behind them. "Are you sure you could handle it?"  
  
"Might need to get a maid," Minseok murmurs, but he's still looking at Sehun intently, hungrily almost, hands winding their way around Sehun's waist. "You could be my maid."  
  
"What kind of maid?" Sehun asks, and he's trying to sound flirty, trying to mimic Minseok's eyebrow quirks, but instead he just stutters, goes red.  
  
"You're cute," Minseok says with a grin, and he kisses Sehun softly, lips gently caressing lips before he pulls away and points behind Sehun. "The sun's going to start going down and then it'll be too dark for your pictures."  
  
"Do we have anything else to do today?" Sehun asks, and his voice sounds strange even to himself; strained. "Or are are we going straight home?"  
  
"Depends," Minseok says and he deliberately leans away from Sehun, looks like he's really thinking it over, but his phone is in hand, thumb swiping over the camera. "I think you'd look good in a maid outfit."  
  
And it's with a shocked face, blushing and red that Sehun ends up taking a photo with Minseok, solidified forever in the setting sun.  
  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, UNIT 0412**  
  
"Carry yourself as if you are noble. Tilt your head and look only ahead of you. To look down is to degrade yourself, and to look higher is pointless. We are as high as we ever need to be. We are the most important, most royal and everyone else stands below us."  
  
"And what if I do not believe this?"  
  
"That isn't your choice."

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"When I first came here, you didn't like me, did you?"  
  
"No I didn't."  
  
"And yet you were still kind to me. You treated me as somebody, why is that?"  
  
"You lacked manners. You were bitter and you were rude, and you cared nothing for those around you. Yet when you were alone you were entirely different. You seemed lonely, unsure. I watched those first few nights. When you would sit on your balcony and just stare at the sky, and you would talk to yourself. And I knew then that you were someone that needed guidance."  
  
"Guidance?"  
  
"You needed someone to mold you, someone to keep you in place and teach you how to be what you could be."  
  
"And that person is you?"  
  
"I don't know, Sehun is it?"

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
"The dreamcatcher broke."  
  
"I'll get you a new one."  
  
"It's not the same. I don't want a new one. This one, it feels like it means something."  
  
"Nostalgia is often given to material possessions."  
  
"Is it fixable?"  
  
"I don't know. Could you fix it?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- after utopia**  
  
"Yerim got in trouble again today. She got caught trying to get through to the outside again. I don't know why she's so obsessed with leaving utopia. There's nothing out there."  
  
"She's never known anything but utopia. To her, the outside could seem fascinating. Imagine, you're stuck in a giant bright bubble your whole life and you're surrounded by darkness and different terrain and you don't know how long it goes on or what's out there."  
  
"Kind of like space."  
  
"Exactly like space. She's never known what we experienced."  
  
"I'm glad we experienced it, in a way. I never would have met you without the darkness."  
  
"And utopia would have never existed without you."  
  
"Yerim wouldn't exist without you."  
  
"I still want to find them."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The others. The people that still live in the darkness,that never had a utopia like ours. I want to find them and help them."  
  
"For now you should focus on raising your kid."  
  
"Our kid, you mean."  
  
"My kids. All four of you."  
  
"Shut up Minseok."  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**unknown country, unknown city; Year 2014**  
  
14/03/23.  
  
**Sehun:**  I'm sorry  
  
**Sehun:**  I wasn't being serious I didn't mean to call you that I love you Minseok please  
  
**Sehun:**  you cn't just ignore me im crying and I dont know what to fuckuing do im sorry  
  
message seen  
  
14/03/24  
  
**Sehun:**  Are you still mad at me? I feel sick and i Can't stop thinking about I said and I'm so sorry and i love you and I'm going to come see you because i fucked up okay? I'm sorry I love you  
  
message seen  
  
14/03/25  
  
**Minseok:**  Sorry my Mom came to town and dragged up to the beach to see my grandparents.. .I left my phone on at home. I'm not angry with you. I love you too Sehun don't beat yourself up about this it's not your fault.  
  
**Minseok:**  you're not clingy. I didn't mean to say that, I was just in a bad mood and I didn't know how to respond. You know how I get sometimes.  
  
**Minseok:**  What do you mean coming to see me? I live across the ocean baby. Just skype me for my birthday and we'll talk. I have a surprise for you. Your Mom loves you. It’s just hard for her and maybe you’ll be safer here when you fly for school. Please answer me.  
  
message not seen  
  
14/03/26  
  
**Minseok:**  Are you mad at me now? You don’t need to avoid me. You ended things and I accepted it and I love you. I'm going to call your house phone and see if you answer.  
  
**Minseok:**  I don't care if your Mother answers.

 

 

 

 

 

  
_"Your intellect may be confused, but your emotions will never lie to you."_

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
There's a noise.  
  
The scuffling of footsteps -- careful, yet sure footsteps -- and Sehun tenses, hand flying to the gun that rests at his hip, other hand stilling where he'd been mindlessly doodling on an empty map sheet, waiting.  
  
It could be anyone; a guard, his father, a random civilian accidentally found a way in, a Syndicate member not yet aware of his presence. Sehun can't be too careful, can't let his guard down, tip-toeing out of his small makeshift workshop and out into the corridor, pistol held in front of him.  
  
It's a Caliber 26 Beam Gun, set to stun, but Sehun nearly panic sets it to kill when hears the sound of rocks falling, someone's hand drag along a weaker wall. Whoever it is they seem at ease --  _too_  at ease -- and Sehun can't afford to be discovered, can't afford to have the news travel upwards to where his execution may await.  
  
No one in Syndicate has been granted access to this part of the tunnels yet; Sehun knows this because Jongdae and Joonmyun are the only ones with the keys, the only ones with the knowledge they've been completely mapped. Them and Minseok, the mysterious Syndicate leader Sehun's been in contact with, someone even Jongdae won't disclose information on.  
  
Sehun turns a corner towards the sound of the noise and points his gun, shaking with anxiety, but finds no one. He breathes in shakily, lowers it slightly and prepares to go down another hallway, perplexed and at a loss. He hadn't imagined the footsteps, and the tunnels are silent always. Especially this section.  
  
He's about to turn around and go back to his shop when sudden movement startles him, a yelp erupting from his throat as he finds a knife pressed right against his vein; not digging in, just resting against his skin, a warning.  
  
"You should be more careful," A voice says in his ear, and it's layered with honey, smooth and calm. "There's a dugout spot in the wall that you never put in the map and I'm quite light on my feet. If I were anyone else you could be dead right now."  
  
"W-what?" Sehun chokes out, and he's released, spun around and pressed to the wall by one hand steady on his chest. Standing in front of him is a shorter man with sharp eyes, knife dangling carelessly from his fingertips.  
  
"Are you Sehun?" The man acts, and there's a hint of a smirk playing across his lips, a curiosity in his eyes as he surveys Sehun -- no, checks him out almost. The sound of Sehun's name nearly sends him into a panic, having to fight back the heaving breaths of anxiety that lodge themselves into his lungs.  
  
"Who are you?" Sehun asks weakly, and he's not the type to back down quickly, not the type to shrink away or show vulnerability but something about this man has him willing to submit within seconds, fearing for his life at the touch of petite hands.  
  
"You first," The man says, and he sounds as if he's enjoying himself, voice smooth,  _playful._  He's clearly someone from the ground that's for sure, lacking the meek personality that even those of the upper alliance have. "You're not exactly in a position of power right now."  
  
"I-- I am Sehun, yes," He stutters out, and he's ready to start shaking when the man steps forward, curls his fingers into Sehun's shirt.  
  
"Perfect," The man says, and it's flippant, sudden,  _confusing_  when he lets go of Sehun's shirt, tucks his knife away, smiles gently. He's a different person then, eyes still intense in their gaze but face rounder, softer, body lax and lazy, like a cat. "You're cute, for a supposed high class double agent."  
  
"I--" Sehun pauses, unsure what to say, confused by the situation he's put in, back staying flat against the wall, refusing to relax. He tenses up, goes into defense mode, fingers twitching at his sides, running along the length of his pistol.  
  
"My name is Kim Minseok," The man offers, and he's holding out a hand, grinning as if they hadn't just met with Sehun nearly being killed, as if they're friendly chums. "You should have been expecting me?"  
  
"I didn't think it would be so soon," Sehun grumbles, and he's suddenly nervous for a different reason, peeling himself away from the wall and not meeting Minseok's eyes. "I have a room where we could talk -- uh -- around the corner."  
  
"A room?" Minseok asks and he's trailing behind Sehun a little, running his fingers along the cracks in the walls, observing his surroundings as if looking for flaws. And Sehun supposes he just might be doing that, considering he'd apparently found a dugout in the wall Sehun himself had missed. "Do you live down here?"  
  
"No I just work down here," Sehun answers, and his voice sounds quiet in his own ears, on the edge of squeaking with a kind of anxiety, nerves that seem to be more than just meeting the leader of the most important rebellion in their shared history. There's something heavier in the air, something Sehun can't place. "Sometimes I hide."  
  
Minseok is walking beside him now, imposing despite their height difference, an air of authority about him that reminds Sehun of his father and yet not. It's the same kind of authority with a different kind of passion; Minseok's eyes are curious rather than condescending, presence powerful but not oppressing.  
  
He makes Sehun feel safe almost immediately, in the careless way in which he sits near Sehun in his workshop; somewhere no one else besides him has ever been, perched on an upturned bucket and lounging.  
  
"We're already acquainted via our letters and yet you're much different in person," Minseok comments into the silence, and his eyes are lighting up as they take in Sehun's plans, his rough drafts, his absent doodles. "How old are you even?  
  
"19," Sehun says quietly, and he feels younger as Minseok's eyebrows shoot up slightly.  
  
"I thought you were older, though Jongdae did say you were just a kid," Minseok murmurs, and Sehun wonders how old he is, afraid to ask, afraid to even properly speak; he doesn't know how lenient Minseok is to these kinds of things, whether he's to call him sir, bow when he enters a room, kneel before him as his father does to the lower level Alliance minions.  
  
"I-- I'm not," Is all Sehun gets out, and he's barely breathing now, too afraid that if he does he'll retch.  
  
"Relax," Minseok tells him, looking concerned as he leans back on the bucket and Sehun suddenly feels awful, leaping to his feet, doing the opposite of relaxing.  
  
"That can't be comfortable," Sehun says quickly, voice rising with his anxiety. "Do you want the chair? We can switch uh--"  
  
"Are you scared of me?" Minseok asks and he too is getting to his feet, but it's too forward, push Sehun down into the chair lightly by his shoulder, look down at him with a playful glint to his eye. "You shouldn't be. You're a person of higher power than I am."  
  
"You're the Syndicate's leader," Sehun mutters weakly. "I don't know how I'm supposed to act and I can't just make someone of such high status sit on a bucket and I'm probably speaking too freely -- my father -- the Alliance -- you can't just make them."  
  
"I wasn't aware things worked that way," Minseok interrupts Sehun's rambling then, and he sounds contemplative, almost nervous himself. "You needn't be formal around me. I'm just a regular person. I don't now who your father is, but I'm not him."  
  
"You don't know who my --" Sehun starts and then he stops, hands wringing together like they always do when he truly loses it nerves wise; tapping out the syllables of his thoughts, one, two, three, four, skip a finger, two fingers, five, six. "You don't know who I am?"  
  
"Am I supposed to?" Minseok asks, blinking exactly two times. He also shuffles his feet, something that Sehun is hyper-aware of in his attack. Minseok doesn't do things in numbers, and Sehun loses count. "All I was told was that you were from the inside of the Alliance and trustworthy."  
  
"Oh," Sehun murmurs, and he calms slightly, feels more at ease. "My father is Oh Seunghoon."  
  
"Your father is--" Minseok's eyes widen and  _he_  looks scared of Sehun, shuffles awkwardly. "Why in the world are you helping us if--"  
  
"My father's beliefs do not extend to my own," Sehun says sharply, and it's as if his anxiety has ceased to exist, replaced by a defensiveness he knows he shouldn't have. Minseok is asking a question anyone would ask, especially one of his position, but he can never help his emotions from flaring up, can never help when his passiveness ceases to be.  
  
"I understand," Minseok says and he hasn't yet sat down, but he's glancing around the small dugout room. "I've set up a temporary room back in the 3rd Section. It would be more comfortable to talk? Unless you want to give me the tour of this section."  
  
"Whichever you prefer," Sehun says with a shrug, and he's grateful that Minseok doesn't press, doesn't ask questions or look at him any differently than he has been the entire time. "We need to discuss who and how we're going to set the explosives."  
  
"Come then," Minseok says, and he seems cheerful,  _young._  "Let's talk."  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"I'm going to give you a word -- it will be different each time -- and you are to write a page of whatever comes to mind."  
  
"Does it need to be a story?" Sehun asks, and he's seated cross-legged in an armchair -- near the window because Minseok says the river is good for inspiration. He's dressed in his simple clothes today, and he nearly blushes when he thinks of the women's panties he has hidden underneath his trousers.  
  
"Anything," Minseok tells him, and he's on the other side of the large room, sat neatly at the piano. "Just write the first thing your mind tells you."  
  
  
  
  
"Do I need to show it to you?" Sehun licks his lips, presses a fist to his mouth to discreetly chew on his upper lip.  
  
"Only if you want to," Minseok replies, and there's something gentle in his voice, as if he understands Sehun's need for solitude, for hiding. "It's just an exercise."  
  
Sehun nods, rests the paper and ink on his lap, continues to chew on his lip, a nervous habit he hasn't quite been able to get over. Minseok doesn't give him the first word right away, just plays a song Sehun doesn't recognize on the piano, fingers moving quick across the keys  
  
And not for the first time, Sehun finds himself fantasizing the tiniest bit, watching Minseok's hands. They're small and yet Sehun knows they are strong, agile, able to create complicated arts, fast moving melodies. He wonders what they would feel like sliding up thighs, dancing along skin to create other melodies.  
  
Sehun is so lost in his thoughts, eyes fixated on Minseok's hands, that he nearly misses Minseok pause in his playing to call out a word, eyes widening and mouth parting; he's definitely been caught staring.  
  
"Tension," Minseok calls, and there's a smug kind of smirk on his face, a knowing one. "Write about tension."  
  
And Sehun does write about tension, in short, choppy sentences because he's not sure how to turn thoughts into something nice, unsure of how to sound cryptic and yet straight forward because he does want Minseok to read his work, wants him to tell him what to change and how to change, how to improve, impress.  
  
Sehun wants to impress him and so he writes too long, stops with a huff and a confused blink when Minseok shakes his shoulder, leans too close to tell him it's time for a new word.  
  
"This is kind of fun," Sehun tells him once Minseok has gone to sit back down, smiles brightly and rocks to the side in his armchair, feeling content, childish.  
  
"I'm glad you're enjoying it more than the singing," Minseok says, but there's a serious tone to his voice, eyes sharp and full of quiet authority. "Write about humility now."  
  
This is where Sehun gets stuck, curls up more in the chair and stares at the wall. He's not even entirely sure what the word means, has never encountered the need to show humility to put himself into someone else's feelings.  
  
Compassion and humility are two things Sehun has never truly understood; he is himself and he is supposed to care about himself. How else would he get himself through life alive?  
  
Minutes pass, and Sehun sits with an empty page, before finally leaning forward to write, to argue against humility, to make a point that though he most often searches for the need to give himself up to someone, he will never understand wanting to know what it feels like to be them.  
  
Sehun doesn't notice Minseok reading quietly over his shoulder, barely feels breath hitting the back of his neck, but he jolts when a hand comes to rest, fingers digging softly into the fabric of his tunic. He looks back with a concealed fear in his eyes, gulps quietly.  
  
"Did I go over time again?"  
  
"Yes, but I think two words is enough for today," Minseok says quietly, and he seems thoughtful as he takes the ink from Sehun's hand, the rest of the paper. "Tomorrow I think we'll start real Philosophy. Take you through its history."  
  
"And will I learn something?" Sehun asks, and he can't quite put a finger but on what he's feeling, can't quite decide the confusion settling into his stomach, the  _other thing_.  
  
"I hope so," Minseok says, and he's smiling a predatory kind of smile, less gentle than usual.  
  
Sehun likes it.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
Sehun seeks out Minseok for once, searches through empty hallways at lunch, dips into bathrooms, even ventures to where she was in the library, hovers at the edge of the busy cafeteria -- staying out of sight of Baekhyun -- but she can't find Minseok anywhere.  
  
Sehun is shuffling around awkwardly outside her class -- early, because she'd avoided Baekhyun at lunch -- when Minseok shows up in the usual way by sliding up beside her like a ghost.  
  
"Sehun," Minseok says cheerfully. Her grin is nearly blinding, gummy and beautiful in the dreariness of the school halls. "I've been looking for you."  
  
"I've been looking for  _you!_ " Sehun says accusingly, voice shrill. She forgets for a second that they're not friends and she's degrading herself, eyes narrowing playfully at Minseok.  
  
"Have you now?" Minseok sounds curious, a little shocked, but mostly teasing. Always teasing.  
  
"I-- well," Sehun stammers, remembering  _why_  she'd been searching for Minseok, why she'd tucked her tail between her legs and decided to give her a chance. "I thought a lot about the thing and I guess you can help."  
  
Minseok just nods, leaning up so she can wrap an arm around Sehun's shoulder; it's not much of a height difference, but enough that Minseok looks awkward like this, skirt riding up and arm at a weird angle.  
  
"I can see it now," Minseok says conspiratorially, flashing a grin in Sehun's direction before waving a hand dramatically at the opposite wall. "The taking down of Byun Baekhyun, brought to her death by asked crusaders Sehun and Minseok."  
  
"We won't be wearing masks," Sehun points out realistically, shaking Minseok off her shoulder. "And no one will be dying."  
  
"Don't ruin the fun," Minseok pouts, and it's a playful one, teasing just like her smile. "but you're right. No masks, I want everyone to know who I am, love me."  
  
"Are you planning on being an actress or something?" Sehun grumbles, glancing at the clock that hangs above her classroom door. Still fifteen minutes left. "You're strange."  
  
"Oh babe," Minseok says cheekily, condescending but not rude. "I'm already an actress."  
  
Sehun daydreams about the feel of slender arms around hers, or the colour of Minseok's hair the rest of class. She’s confused by her feelings, knows that she wants Minseok but not in any way, not in  _that_  way or  _that other_  way.  
  
Just wants her as a friend. A special friend.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unknown -- before utopia**  
  
There are bodies.  
  
Twelve of them, lined up side by side, weeping parents over their children, a child sat in shock near her brother -- the boy that had enthusiastically told tales of utopia to the listening children -- one of Sehun's colleagues, a few others.  
  
Not the wolves this time, but something else, something else human.  
  
"Why would they--" Sehun's choking like he can't believe that people could possibly be bad, that one couldn't possibly hurt another. "Why would they kill our tribe when we all just want the same thing."  
  
"That's what human beings do, Sehunnie," Minseok says with a sigh, and it's not directed at Sehun but the world. "They turn into animals out of desperation."  
  
"If I ever save us with utopia it'll be too late won't it?" Sehun asks, and he's tugging on Minseok's arm, leading them away from the gates, the sad. "It'll be too late and we'll all be eaten by wolves or killed or just ... gone."  
  
"No, we won't," Minseok assures him, but even he sounds strained, weary. "It won't be too late because you won't give up. You're so close baby. You can't just give up now."  
  
"All these bad things--" Sehun starts, and he stops, turning to face Minseok; his eyes are sparkling with tears, like they always are these days, for one reason or another. "All these bad things are happening at once and I'm scared."  
  
"We'll be okay," Minseok whispers, stepping close to Sehun to rest his hands on Sehun's hips, place a kiss to corner of his mouth. "Come on, let's go home."  
  
  
  
  
-  
  
"What do you think they'll do about this?" Sehun asks once they're home and curled up in bed, foreheads resting together as Minseok soothingly runs his hands up and down Sehun's sides, across his protruding stomach.  
  
"We need better security," Minseok muses, words spoken against Sehun's lips, and they're always calm like this, gentle like this, when they can discuss emotions and happenings quietly. When Sehun is able to be coherent. "Someone to watch over those who wander forth from the gates."  
  
"Like, not just to watch from the gates?"  
  
Minseok hums his agreement, hands stopping to rest somewhere on Sehun's back, chest pressed against as much as Sehun's chest as he can. "Sleep now," He murmurs, and he sounds tired, drained. "You need to work early."  
  
"I don't wanna," Sehun mutters childishly, and his hands are cupping Minseok's jaw, curling around the back of his neck for a sloppy, tired kiss, a confirmation of gentle, comforting feelings, a  _thank you_  for taking care of him, being there. Minseok always is. "I'm scared."  
  
"I believe in you," Minseok says, but it's weak, almost too quiet, as he dozes off.  
  
"I know," Is the reply back, soft words that Minseok never hears, but knows nonetheless.  


 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg; Year 2013**  
  
"A dream catcher," Minseok says out of the blue, eyes shining with excitement. "That's it!"  
  
They're winding their way through a shop in Little Seoul, Minseok's basket full of Sehun's "I miss home" cravings, and Minseok is looking thoughtful, hands pausing over a can of milk soda.  
  
"A dream catcher?" Sehun echoes, and he's sneaking banana milk into the basket, some shrimp crackers, a home bubble tea kit.  
  
"I'm going to buy you a dream catcher," Minseok says cheerily, and he's putting the milk soda back into its case with a quiet scolding look that has Sehun blushing. He knows he's not supposed to drink soda. "For you to take back home."  
  
"Of all things," Sehun blinks, confused, but he's still grinning, happy just at the thought of Minseok thinking of him, buying a gift  _just for him_.  
  
"I need to chase away the bad dreams," Minseok says seriously, and he stops mid aisle to give Sehun an intense stare. "That way you'll have more wet dreams about me when you miss me."  
  
" _Hyung,_ " Sehun says loudly, and he's definitely blushing now, nearly dropping the basket in shock. "You can't just say things like that."  
  
"Yes I can," Minseok giggles, and he's grabbing Sehun's hand, dragging him to the till and out of the store. "You love it," He says once they're outside, warm air ruffling their hair. "You're cute when you're flustered."  
  
"You're not fair," Sehun snaps, and he's trying to sound tough, irritated, intimidating, but Minseok just laughs, loud and beautiful, tugging Sehun into a fast food place for a quick lunch.  
  
They eat quietly, though Sehun has plastered himself to Minseok's side, leaning into him with a blissful smile as he finishes the last of his fries. He's tempted to put his feet up, burrow in and purr like a kitten, but he's not sure just how far these establishments would let him go.  
  
Minseok, on the other hand seems to have no such problem, fingers tracing patterns just a little too high on Sehun's thighs, squeezing as he cheerfully pops one of Sehun's fries into his mouth, tells a story that Sehun doesn't hear over the blood that rushes to his ears.  
  
"We're in a booth," Minseok suddenly says, leaning in close, lips brushing Sehun's ear lightly, breath warm. "I could get you off and no one would notice if you play well."  
  
"I knew you were an exhibitionist with the way you were on skype but I never--" Sehun tries to reply, but his words are cut off with a gasp when Minseok presses his palm into the front of Sehun's jeans, the pressure getting to him. "Minseok--"  
  
"Do you want to be a good boy and try?" Minseok is practically purring, voice dripping with promise as he continues to palm Sehun. He's getting hard and fast, holding in the whipmer that threatens to escape.  
  
"Y-yes," Sehun mutters, and he's squirming in his seat as Minseok releases the button quickly, wrapping his small fingers around Sehun through his boxers. Sehun bucks up into his hand, gripping the table and trying his best not to make any noise, to look calm even when Minseok's cool fingers tug his underwear down to properly curl around him.  
  
He leans further into Minseok's side, legs spreading automatically and breathing heavy as Minseok runs a thumb across the slit of his cock, tugs gently, teasingly, putting the tiniest bit of pressure.  
  
Minseok looks too pleased with himself, beaming as he eats more of Sehun's fries, ruffles his hair and whispers into his ear, all the while fisting Sehun's cock, praising him quietly.  
  
And Sehun kind of hates how much he's enjoying himself, cheeks red and thrusting up harder into Minseok's grip with each  _good boy Sehunnie_  thrown his way, each caress of Minseok's tongue around the shell of his ear.  
  
No one's watching either, eating and talking and laughing, not noticing the way Sehun' can't help but throw his head back onto Minseok's shoulder, let the quietest of moans out. He regrets it, whining softly and glaring at Minseok when his hand stops moving, when his chewing becomes slow, thoughtful.  
  
"You're supposed to be quiet," Minseok hums, and he's dancing his fingers up the underside of Sehun's cock, sliding his hand away, resting it on what bare skin there is of Sehun's thigh. "Be a good boy."  
  
"I will," Sehun stutters, and he's sitting up straighter, reaching down and guiding Minseok's hand back over his cock, no longer caring that they're in  _public_ , that he never knew Minseok was capable of something like this, that he never knew he would be so  _into it._  "I'll be a good boy."  
  
"Good boy," Minseok says low into his ear, as if to reassure Sehun of what he's supposed to be doing, repeating his stuttered words back in a sinful tone. "Good boys get to come."  
  
Sehun is silent, resisting the urge to bite down on his fingers, his fist, anything to stop the noises from coming forth, but Minseok's voice is so calm in his ear, whispering and nipping and beautiful as his hand speeds up, twists, tugs, merciless.  
  
Sehun does let out one more gasp, hips canting up as he comes over Minseok's fist, prays that nothing got on the benches, the floor. And Minseok, he remains calm, licks Sehun's come off his fingers like it's just another salty fry, zips Sehun back up, grins at him.  
  
"You should eat some of your fries, baby," Minseok says, and he ruffles Sehun's hair again, still grinning. "They're going to get cold."  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

  
_“But a desperate heart will seduce the mind.”_

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"Philosophy," Minseok says, and he speaks as if he's discussing the subject with a room of a hundred people, rather than just Sehun sitting cross legged on the floor. "Philosophy is made from two words, and means the love of wisdom. Not "love" in the sense that it has been degraded to these days, but love in its purest form, a seeking out of, pursue, a longing for wisdom."  
  
"So romantic love as we know it is less?" Sehun interrupts, a frown on his features.  
  
"It could be," Minseok tells him, but he looks thoughtful, corners of his mouth pulling up as if he catches a joke that Sehun misses. "But it could also not be. One of the great philosophical questions, is that of the nature of love. I am simply telling you the Greek definition of this word."  
  
"I don't under--"  
  
"When I teach you, I will take on the role of each philosopher I teach," Minseok states, and he sits down, crosses his legs to become an equal of Sehun, eyes sharp, yet soft. "A point is much better remembered and believed when told passionately. Now listen."  
  
"Philosophy to Plato, was to prove things to be universal truths," Minseok continues, and he's speaking quieter, slower. It doesn't make Sehun feels stupid like it could make one, but it makes him slow down himself, absorb the words in a way he's never absorbed them before, at least not from any of his previous masters. "In a near mathematical sense, the philosophical formula is knowledge, equals truth plus proof. You cannot say something is true without proof. And that's what philosophy seeks, to answer the questions we cannot yet answer, and to answer them in a way that makes them universal."  
  
"Is it not impossible for something to be true around the entire world?" Sehun once again interrupts, rudely this time after being asked not to. He knows it's rude, but he can't help it, can't stop the way his thoughts jump from his mind to his tongue. "Surely everything is different in each place, and each person."  
  
"Every human being requires water to survive," Minseok says simply, not going into detail, not elaborating further, but his point is proven, and Sehun snaps his mouth closed, doesn't question further. "There are those who say there is no such thing as proof. But you cannot prove there is no proof, and therefore they are wrong."  
  
"But you are unable to prove that statement aren't you?" Sehun asks, and he's sure not to interrupt this time, trying to enhance the lesson, rather than disprove it. "You can't say the word can't without having something to back your point up, therefore there's no proof that there is no proof  _about_  proof."  
  
It sounds jumbled, even to Sehun's own ears, but Minseok is grinning, a radiant kind of smile that makes him look more youthful, Sehun's age even. He doesn't comment on Sehun's confusing statement, but he nods, smiles, leans back on his palms.  
  
"The first step to any philosophical discussion, or argument, is to bring to it and yourself, freedom of thought," Minseok continues, but Sehun is distracted by the way his fingers tap out imaginary melodies into the carpeting, the way his eyes blink rapidly one moment and not at all the next, eyelashes fluttering delicately. "You're full of genetic beliefs, things ingrained into you since before you were even born, that it's nearly impossible for you to find proper freedom of thought. Your prejudices will follow you everywhere."  
  
"What prejudice could I possibly have?" Sehun blurts out, perplexed.  
  
"You show a distinct lack of respect for those around you," Minseok points out easily, and his fingers have stopped their tapping. "You display a prejudice towards those of higher authority, and pick and choose to whom you will submit."  
  
Sehun once again falls quiet, finds himself staring at the ornate designs in the carpet rather than into Minseok's intimidating gaze. The more he speaks out, the more he engages, the more  _unsure_  he feels, uneducated and small.  
  
"There are six methods of proof," Minseok is saying, but he pauses to look at the late afternoon sky, leans forward and taps Sehun's knee for his attention. Sehun snaps his head up to meet Minseok's gaze, widening in a slight worry that he's about to get scolded. "I need to head to the market to get food before it's too dark. We'll need to cut this lesson short," Is what Minseok says instead, rising to his feet and stretching the kinks from his spine.  
  
Sehun tries his best not to stare at the exposed skin that shows beneath his tunic that is barely a garment.  
  
"Would you like to come with me?" Minseok asks, flippant as an afterthought, and he's still got his youthful glow, playful smile flashing across usually sullen lips. "You haven't been out since you arrived."  
  
"I can come?" Sehun asks, and he tries to keep the hopeful tone from his voice, tries not to sound too excited, but Minseok is right. He hasn't ventured outside since his arrival in Florence, has confined him to Minseok's side or his own room. "I would love to."  
  
"Good boy," Minseok says, and he leads Sehun from the room just like one would indeed lead a respectful puppy, instructing him to change into garments from the wardrobe of his room. "When going out one must adopt our proper status, unlike the casual way we run about this villa," Minseok tells him. "Dress like a rich apprentice and you will be treated as such in the streets."  
  
And Sehun is not one for rich clothing, is not one for things that draw attention to him, constrict him within the views of others, but Minseok leaves no room for argument. Sehun isn't sure he wants another argument today, headache heavy from the beginnings of philosophy earlier, not understanding, not quite there enough to grasp.  
  
The market is busy, bustling with people even with the darkening skies and cooling wind, but Sehun is just pleased to be outdoors, enjoying the feel of his feet on something other than the villa floors and carpets. His clothing woes are forgotten when Minseok gives him two bottles of wine, heavy and rich to carry as he searches for salted meats.  
  
Sehun is once again impressed by Minseok's wealth, feeling out of place with such fine foods being placed into the wheeled cart to be brought back home. Sehun's family is by no means purely peasantry, but they generally do not purchase such expensive wines, or meat for that matter, his Mother not being able to afford the salt that preserves it, or the exotic spices that are sprinkled over top it.  
  
Sehun isn't bothered by Minseok's silence as they return home, but he trips over his own feet nervously, feeling small, unimportant behind them during the walk. Minseok has a certain air about him, an aura that displays his personality, his prominence well as he walks, and though Sehun has noticed it quite well, he hasn't witnessed Minseok in extravagant clothing, hasn't seen the colours and the way the material hugs his thighs.  
  
It's distracting. Overwhelming. Sehun nearly drops the wines when Minseok stops suddenly to turn back towards him.  
  
"Do you want some fruits for a dessert?" Minseok asks him, and he seems amused by Sehun's stumbling, by his stuttered answer and shuffling of the heavy bottles in his arms, laughing as he purchases fruits, balances them in the cart, continues on.  
  
They arrive back at Minseok's home just as the sun dips below the horizon, and Sehun finds himself stopping by the front door to stare, to watch the colours shine over buildings as the wind nips at his expensive tunic.  
  
Something feels strange. Not off, but different, and Sehun can't help but to be struck by it in that small moment; standing still with two bottles of wine cradled like children in his arms until the sun is completely gone, and he's covered with darkness.  
  
Minseok says nothing, but he watches from just inside, a tiny smile, one that seems to grow more fond with each passing moment.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
Sehun wakes up from what feels like the longest sleep he's ever had to the feel of gentle fingers tracing his shoulders. A comforting gesture, one that has him exhaling softly, stretching out and humming, leaning back to press up against a chest. He feels sore, drained, but well-rested, eyes blissfully closed and hand coming to rest on his stomach.  
  
It's soon. Sehun knows this. Male pregnancy works different from female pregnancy, lasts longer, but something tells him they have another month at most before he goes into labour, before he faces the primitive childbirth materials they possess in Hatharat.  
  
It's only when Sehun opens his eyes drowsily, blinking slowly that he realizes there's the tiniest bit of light from the horizon peeking into their tiny home. The brightest time of day when the sun struggles to shine but only achieves a dusky colour. And long past when Sehun usually rouses to go do his work.  
  
He jolts, sitting up quickly and swearing loudly, panic filling him at the thought of losing more time, extending their stay in the darkness of their sad colony any longer. Sehun is climbing from the bed in a hurry when he feels arms wrap themselves securely around his waist, tucking themselves underneath his belly, effectively stopping.  
  
"You're not going anywhere," Minseok says quietly from behind him, and Sehun feels legs wrap around his, Minseok's head resting between his shoulder blades. It reminds Sehun of something he would do, cling and whine and hug. "You're staying home for the rest of the day and going back tomorrow. Doctor's orders."  
  
"You're not a doctor," Sehun whines, and he tries to wriggle out of Minseok's arms, but Minseok has a good grip, only holds tighter and laughs into Sehun's spine. "I need to go," Sehun continues, and his voice edges on that bit of desperate he gets sometimes. "With what happened last night I can't lose any more time fixing the--"  
  
"With what happened last night and with utopia you are staying right here, in bed, with me," Minseok says firmly, and Sehun gives up at his tone, slumps back into Minseok with as much dead weight as he can, huffs. Sehun blinks back tears; he's always crying these days and he  _hates_  it but he's so stressed out, so wound up completely from life, from the baby, from utopia that he can barely breathe.  
  
"I feel guilty," Sehun whispers once Minseok's coaxed him onto his side, and Minseok looks so beautiful in the soft glow of the nearly gone sun, thumb caressing Sehun's cheek as he  _whimpers_  with his guilt, forces himself not to thrash, doesn't want to hurt the baby.  
  
"Just relax," Minseok says, and his voice is a low hum as he presses as close as he can get to kiss Sehun, lips reassuring and gentle. A purposeful swipe of his tongue causes Sehun's mouth to fall open willingly, his body to fully relax, pliant as Minseok's hands soothe him, gentle as they stroke patterns into his hips.  
  
It doesn't take long to become heated, and Sehun forgets to relax -- forgets his guilt too, -- a gasp leaving his parted lips when Minseok moves to drag his teeth over Sehun's pulse, fingers lightly pressing against the crown of his cock, dragging up the sides in a maddeningly slow way.  
  
"Are you relaxing yet?" Minseok says huskily, gently pushing Sehun onto his back to kiss across his collarbones, dip his tongue into every crevice before moving down to rest his cheek against Sehun's stomach. He's smiling, fondly, gently, considerate, caring, beautiful, Minseok, and Sehun is nearly jealous for a second, nearly overwhelmed with the wish that he too, could care about nothing else in the world besides the safety of his Dal-Path and future child.  
  
And Sehun cares about both of those things, cares about Minseok so much it physically hurts sometimes -- tugs at that part of him that believes this isn't their first time on this planet -- but he knows that he's the driving force behind utopia, the genius orphaned 'scientist' that everyone looks up to.  
  
He's panting now, eyes fluttering shut slowly as Minseok bites and kisses his way along his inner thighs, taking his time. It's not in a way that's teasing but in a way that has Sehun's breathing evening out; deep, shaky breaths as his back attempts to arch even with the weight of his stomach.  
  
"Do you want my mouth or my fingers?" Minseok asks, and his voice is level, calm, seductive purr almost cute as he stares at Sehun from where he rests between his legs.  
  
"Mouth,  _please_ ," Sehun breathes, and they've done this enough times that he doesn't blush anymore, doesn't feel shy when he begs, pleads, worships Minseok as he licks tentatively at first, slowly, little flicks of his tongue that barely touch Sehun's cock.  
  
It's enough to have Sehun whimpering, worries forgotten when Minseok takes him in full, swallows him and bobs his head, hands sliding up Sehun's thighs to grip his hips, hold them in place as he sucks Sehun down.  
  
Sehun moans loudly, near keening when Minseok doesn't slow down, doesn't tease or stop, just continues, releasing Sehun's hips and letting out an encouraging but soft moan when Sehun thrusts up.  
  
And Sehun always feels that strange rush of love and gratitude and  _pleasure_  when Minseok indulges him, let's him fuck up into his mouth, showing no signs of discomfort besides a stray tear when Sehun's cock hits the back of his throat.  
  
It's  _so good, so nice, so Minseok_  and Sehun can't help it when he comes too quickly, moan sinful, high, when Minseok sucks him dry, swallows every last bit and grins at Sehun like an angel when he's finished.  
  
"Are you relaxed now?" Minseok says in between lazy kisses once Sehun is burrowed under the blankets once more, head pressed to Minseok's chest to listen to the steady beat of his heart, a reminder of his constant, his "forever home", something that never changes, never leaves no matter what.  
  
"I think so," Sehun murmurs, and he knows so, falling asleep before the first tendrils of guilt can crawl their way into his mind.  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
Electricity.

  
  
_crackling dangerous unsafe beautiful sharp eyes soon to be his_

  
  
It crawls up Sehun's arms and into his throat, down into his lungs, sparks that cause his breath to hitch, his legs to cross tighter where one is thrown casually over the other.  
  
It feels nice in a strange way. The kind of way that Sehun isn't used to, has never quite felt this much and this fast, a kind of pulsing that travels from his stomach straight down to his waist, warm and pooling at his core.  
  
It's distracting, so much so that he misses what Minseok is saying, accidentally ignores the Syndicate leader by staring at the rocky wall above his head, breath constricting with a kind of apprehension -- not quite fear -- when Minseok looks offended, calling his name sharply.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sehun says immediately, and the response feels robotic, the kind of response he would allow his father. Perfect. Immaculate. Noble son Oh Sehun. "I haven't slept much and -- sorry could you repeat what you said?"  
  
He feels a flush creep its way up his neck to curl around his ears at the curious way Minseok's rake across his body once, a single eyebrow raising at Sehun's stammered statement.  
  
"I was just saying that before we finish the bombs I'll need to see the locations, preferably in person," Minseok repeats, and his voice never loses its smoothness, a natural seductive tone that doesn't betray his age, though it's obviously much more than Sehun's own. "If that's a risk I could get another map from you, or from Jongdae, but I want to be in the city when the Alliance."  
  
"To see your hard work pay off in the flesh," Sehun says absently, nodding along and siting up straighter. Minseok's authority really is different than that of his father's, of the Alliance council. It's quiet, and there's an underlying kindness to him that Sehun can breathe in easily, can feel in his heart already.

  
  
_dreams. catching them. flowing colours and a world with sky. buildings like nothing he's ever seen before. beautiful._

 

  
Except for Lu Han. Han gives Sehun a warmth that no one else in the Sky has. An  _I could like you but I can’t, because I'm the enemy._  
  
"The exit from the ventilation tunnels I have mapped out leads directly to the gardens near the edge of the city platform," Sehun responds and he feels airy, trying to stop his voice from catching the quality it has up in the city. _Money. Power._  "My private villa is nearby. I can get you clothes of the Sky sector and no one will be able to tell any different. It's a big city."  
  
"And you won't get seen with a strange person and be questioned?" Minseok asks, but he's nodding, leaning back against the wall, thoughtful and business-like.  
  
"I often walk with those from the city. There's no danger in a place where no one knows of the Ground below."  
  
Minseok blinks. His face is contorting to something of a mix of confusion, shock, veiled anger.  _It hurts Sehun to see him like this, a curious emotion considering their short acquaintance, the people from the Ground Sehun has met in the past._  
  
"I wasn't aware of this," Minseok says calmly, and it's the kind of calm Sehun has seen before Joonmyun, a most dangerous kind of anger, one that bleeds venom but ambushes its bite.  
  
"To those born in the Sky, they are the only ones," Sehun says, and his robotic voice is back, the one that tells that he too is hiding an emotion, his own anger smaller than his detachment, his sorrow of the truth and the lies. "They are told from a young, taught in history that the people on the Ground perished hundreds of years and that humanity exists in this city."  
  
"The Alliance controls even more than we thought," Minseok murmurs, and he's sweeping to his feet, looking at Sehun with a kind of  _urgency._  "Can we go up now? Or shall we wait until tomorrow? I feel a sense of... hurry."  
  
"We could go up now, if you please," Sehun says, and it's a little shaky, a tiny bit scared. Minseok is imposing, crushing. Sehun feels that stir again, the one that he shouldn't have.  _Demisexuality does not work so quickly._  "It's not too late in the day and the Alliance are all housed into one building during midday hours."  
  
"So it would be all that much safer?" Minseok prods and he;s already walking through the caved in doorway, looking back at Sehun pointedly. "Take me, little spy."  
  
"I'm not little," Sehun mumbles under his breath, something Minseok does not here. He knows what little he's referring to, and it has nothing to do with height. Minseok is a reader of personalities, and Sehun wonders if he's also a reader of dreams.  
  
"Let's take our leave" He says louder, and he does lead, winding hallways, low ceilings until they reach the cavern with the dug-out air duct, the one that brings them to the surface. "To the Sky City."  
  


 

 

 

 

 

╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg; Year 2013**  
  
Sehun feels silly picking out dream catchers like a middle school child in Hongdae, but even he can't help the way a smile spreads across his features, eyes crinkling into happy, childish crescents when he sees one he likes.  
  
It's intricate and beautiful, ornate beads trailing down from its main net, looking a lot more expensive than Minseok probably had in mind. But Minseok had promised free reign, had told him to pick  _whichever one he wants_  and so Sehun skips back to the front of the store with his gorgeous decoration, dangling it above Minseok's head.  
  
"It's a shame it isn't mistletoe," Minseok laughs, and his cheeks look round, soft, with the way his eyes light up looking at the dream catcher. "It reminds me of one I've seen before," He says once he's stopped giggling. "Though I can't remember where."  
  
"Can I get it?" Sehun asks breathlessly, and he feels like a kid again, remembers a time when he'd gone with his school friends, skipping school to go window shop at a shop of antiques.  
  
"That's what we're here for baby," Minseok says cheerfully, and Sehun's heart jumps at the endearment, a kind of whoosh going through his lower stomach.  
  
"You better use it," Minseok says once they're outside and on the way home. The sun is sinking slowly, brilliant over the horizon of a castle like building, a church on Minseok's street that points high into the sky. Sehun isn't sure when he started calling Minseok's apartment home.  
  
"I'll hang it right by my window," Sehun grins, and he's twirling with the shopping bag in hand, inhaling the fresh evening air, watching the clouds move south. "Right where you can see it every time we Skype."  
  
"That's a good boy," Minseok says with a wink, and he's pulling at Sehun's wrist, tugging him up the stairs to his building, out of the beautiful outdoor air. The air here is crisper, fresher and somehow Sehun finds himself always wanting to be out in it, wanting to walk down twisting alleys and into the trees to see what the world has to offer.  
  
"The dream catcher can remember our most kinky Skype calls and help you have the  _best_  dreams," Minseok says cheekily, and Sehun blushes when he remembers the fast food place incident the day before, or the feel of the glass of Minseok's windows at his palms as he looked out at the city, panting and breathless.  
  
"It could remember the sappy ones too," Sehun says quickly, changing the subject, hands covering his face so that the bag dangles in front of him awkwardly. He leans against the wall outside Minseok's door and nearly dreads going in, though he's hopeful too.  
  
Nothing happens though, and Minseok just skips off towards his kitchen with a loud declaration of "Leftovers!" and the way he says it has his Korean sounding accented when he speaks afterwards, the English flowing from his tongue.  
  
It reminds Sehun that this is Canada, and Minseok is barely Korean in the cultural sense.  
  
"When I leave next week," Sehun starts, but Minseok hushes him, stands close to him and places a finger tenderly on his lips.  
  
"Not a word," Minseok says in a quiet voice, not a sad one but it has a quality to it that Sehun barely catches. "Were not to discuss that."  
  
"Will you miss me as much as I'll miss you?" Sehun gets out once his lungs have let out the air, once his chest has decided to calm, to remember that Minseok is here right now and he won't love Sehun less or miss him less because Minseok is  _wonderful_.  
  
"I'll miss you more, I bet," Answers Minseok, and he's pushing a bowl into Sehun's hands, reheated Mac N Cheese with green onions, a favourite of MInseok's. "Eat up darling."  
  
"Yes Mom" Sehun grumbles, and Minseok just laughs loudly, before leading him to the couch and pushing him down, like one would do to a child.  
  
"You know," Minseok comments once he's sat down beside Sehun and they're eating comfortably, thighs pressed closed together. "You never call me hyung in Canada."  
  
"Oh--" Sehun stammers, blushing furiously and nearly dropping his bowl. "Do you want me to?" He asks, and his tongue is swiping across his teeth nervously. "I kind of thought that since it was Canada I would use Canadian rules for formality and--"  
  
"You could call me oppa instead," Minseok interrupts and it calms Sehun down, the realization that Mnseok is teasing, that this is good natured.  
  
"Minseok... oppa?" Sehun tries, going along with the teasing, purposely making his voice a bit higher, adding a bit of aegyo. He nearly misses the way Minseok's breath hitches, the way his eyes darken at the title, slow smile inching its way across his lips.  
  
"I--well," Minseok starts, trailing off. He puts his almost empty bowl on the low table that stretches the length of the couch and turns to Sehun with a kind of intensity in his gaze that Sehun recognizes well at this point. He's smirking now, hand landing on Sehun's upper thigh with a casualness that has Sehun narrowing his eyes accusingly.  
  
"Can you call me that again?"  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
Minseok's voice rings clear across the nearly empty auditorium. She's just finished twirling in her white dress -- the one her Mother had bought her in Paris -- grin bright and eyes shining, hopeful.  
  
She doesn't understand why the judges need to sit so far back from the stage, why they need to leer at her across their table as if she's a tiny, useless ant.  
  
"Thank you," The main judge calls out, and her voice is scratchy, glasses thick. She reminds Minseok of a librarian, the kind that glares at children and makes a late returned book seem like a criminal offence. "You may go now. If you have received a callback, you will get a letter."  
  
Minseok bows, an overly formal habit but an important one. This is a role she'll never get the chance to audition for again, a role in a big movie, -- a blockbuster -- one that will bring her up to the rest of her family's level.  
  
And yet there's a certain kind of calmness about the way Minseok walks from the stage, a certain arrogance -- practiced, measured, masking the adrenaline filled heartbeats that thud against her chest -- as she walks past the other girls trying for the part.  
  
_You're prettier than them. More talented. Kinder, better._  She assures herself, head held high with the air of a noble, of someone from old money and prowess, not the scared midwestern girl she really is.  _You're a starlet. New York is no different from any other place._  
  
Minseok shakes off the nerves as she strolls through the grimy New York streets, tugs her coat around her to fend off the catcalls, the stares from men far older than her. Even the Upper East side is sketchy these days, criminals running rampant and the police unable to help, not  _wanting_  to help.  
  
And if it's  _this_  bad where it should be safe -- stabbings, beatings, among other things -- she wonders just how dangerous the Lower East Side is, thinks about her little flower Sehun walking home from the subway alone.  
  
Minseok giggles a bit to herself at this thought though, picturing the scowl on Sehun lips, the indignant glare sent her way. The "I can take care of myself" spat at her, muttered under Sehun's breath.  
  
It does nothing to bother her, Sehun's apparent fighting need to be her own person, to stand up for herself constantly and accept help from no one. Sure it worries her, has her wanting to dote on Sehun, wanting to tuck her into her bed at the Hotel and softly card fingers through her hair.  
  
Sehun is beautiful, lively and passionate -- Minseok can see all of these things -- and she wants to bring Sehun to her full potential, be a guiding light in her fear abiding life.  
  
_Kindred spirit_  is what Minseok had read once in a book, A book on the philosophy of dreams and all that follows, by an ancient scholar from Italy. A prized possession, thrifted from a tiny antique shop that helps Minseok in all walks of her life.  
  
Sehun is meant to be hers -- in what way she's unsure -- but fate is telling her the strangest things as the wind whispers in her ears the way up the school steps. Baekhyun and her friends pay Minseok no mind; they know not to bother her, know to stay far away, and that's how Minseok likes it.  
  
She wants them to be scared of Sehun too, wants them and Baekhyun to  _understand_  that petty high school games are just that, petty and for high school. They're seniors now, meant to go to Ivy Leagues, to produce and act and learn and _become_  everything to their parents, and to the world.  
  
Sehun's pressure is twice that, and Minseok seeks her out, wanders hallways with her satin soft dress between her slightly nervous fingertips. Minseok wants to help, wants to stand up to Baekhyun in small, tiny steps. A revolution of the best friends they could be,  _should_  be.  
  
_and dreams are the center of the soul. the very cavern in which we must see the world through and interpret it. and they must be pure, must be lovely and filled with not that of ill thought, not that of which you are not you, and i am not me. my master says --_  
  
Minseok rounds the corner, sucks in a breath, and prepares to nail her next audition of the day, the one for a role in Sehun's life.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
Sehun returns to utopia the next day and Minseok is left feeling alone.  
  
He's not sure why its hit him this hard, now, when he's  _used_  to Sehun leaving, used to him constantly being locked up in the dingy hanger full of half working equipment, old things recovered from before the fall.  
  
But Minseok feels lost without Sehun today, wanders the compound aimlessly, unsure of how to cure his boredom, his growing apprehension, a kind of crawling anxiety and sadness at the thought of more, and more days without Sehun around.  
  
He walks to the gates, pausing to speak with one of the security guards, a young man around Sehun's age, before exiting, settling into a steady pace across the mounds of dirt, of compacted rock and grime that may have once been a forest.  
  
Minseok sits by the firepits, abandoned after the tribe had attacked, staring at the ring of light on the horizon, the dirtied sun attempting to shine through the haze, the darkness that is Pal-Hatharat.  
  
Minseok supposes what he really needs is something to do. Something to occupy himself and his mind while Sehun works in utopia, a friend, a hobby, a job.  
  
The people of Pal-Hatharat, they're kind, they're worth saving, and that's why Sehun is working so hard, pushing himself past his limits as he adds his calculations together, excitedly rattles off scientific things that Minseok can't quite wrap his head around.  
  
But Minseok isn't particularly close to anyone besides Sehun. He's a just a quiet Dal-Path, bound to a most important one through the marriage ritual and ready to serve whatever needs Sehun may have, and that's really what he feels his purpose is.  
  
The lack of working on his dream catcher has Minseok bored also. It's finished, hanging beautifully inside the closet that Sehun never touches, silent protection until Minseok finds the right time, the right courage to place it into Sehun's hands, to speak more of his dreams and of  _them_ , and who they are, and what they have been and will be.  
  
A scuffling noise distracts Minseok from his thoughts, has him reminded of the brief warning they'd had a while back running from the wolves, and he leaps to his feet, eyes sharp as they survey his surroundings.  
  
He squints in the dim light to see shadows, people hiding in the darkness, primitive clothing and spears held high.  
  
The others. The ones that had attacked had killed. It must be them.  
  
Minseok feels something wet and cold shiver down his spine, a momentary panic as he stumbles backwards, pauses, crouches down behind a rather large rock. He's no fighter, has no weapons of which to fight with, but he knows if he runs he'll surely be dead, struck in the back with a spear to be carted off by the tribe.  
  
Or worse, he'll be captured, kept as a prisoner and fed to the tribe as an offering to the Kal-Hath, the Gods of the lost sun. The ones his compound does not believe in, but ones he knows the primitive tribe, the ones with damaged souls and damaged eyes believe in.  
  
After the fall there's no one to turn to and so the darkening sky becomes a solace for those who cannot fathom humanity any longer.  
  
The group comes into Minseok's view moments later, about six of them, five dressed in warriors colours and bearing the mark of Kal-Hath on their cheeks, a red lightning bolt crossed with a beam of light.  
  
The sixth however, catches Minseok's eye and has his blood draining, has his fingers curling around cold stone, nails digging in so deep he feels that they may break off, that his skin may tear.  
  
A prisoner. He's caught between two of them, eyes nearly shut and feet dragging, hair that looks like it had once shone with gold matted and sloppy against his forehead. He's breathing and alive, raising his head to stare ahead blankly as a spear prods against his back.  
  
"Trade," One of the tribe members calls out to the front of the small group, the largest of them grunting in approval, leering at the prisoner in a way that has Minseok's skin crawling, ready to curl inwards, hide further behind the rock.  
  
"Take their magic. Make it rain in our tribe too," The large one laughs, guttural and stomach churning.  
  
Minseok knows what they mean by magic, and he panics again, sucks in a deep breath and stops himself from heaving out a noise of terror. Their magic is controlled by his Dal-Path, and they want to take him, want to take him and leave the prisoner for dead within their gates, possibly kill him before their eyes.  
  
Minseok knows he can't let this happen, knows he must do  _something_  but what he is unaware of. He lifts himself up a little higher, peeks his way over the rock to stare at the tribe, to stare at the prisoner, dirt masked features beautiful as his eyes open a little wider, locking with MInseok's for a heartbeat before Minseok dips below the rock again, lets his heart pound in his chest painfully for a few moments, until he hears their footsteps just out of close earshot.  
  
Minseok only crawls from hiding place when he's sure they're far enough that they won't hear or catch him, watching them become shadows against the dim rocky surface.  
  
He does the only thing he really can; he follows.

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Sky City**  
  
The first thing Minseok can't help but notice about the Sky City is how  _bright_  it is. The Sun shining down on him is nearly foreign, never this  _hot_  through the dark dust storms of the Ground.  
  
The second thing he notices is the thinness of the air, a coughing fit threatening to take him over as he struggles to breathe, squints at Sehun in the light of the garden. Minseok turns towards the edge of the city and peers at the horizon, the tall fences that crackle with electricity, protect those from falling out and off the side.  
  
He feels a strange sense of vertigo and confusion, blinking in confusion and frustration when he can't get his bearings, stumbles when he walks, unused to the gravity up high. Sehun steadies him, and Minseok is grateful to notice a lack of amusement in his worried gaze, instead just guides Minseok towards a large house, covered in thick growing vines and beautiful.  
  
Luxury.  
  
This place is pure luxury; sunlight, clean air, water, plants, probably plentiful food amounts, replicated to perfection.  
  
Minseok feels the anger and envy rip through him for a quick moment before he steadies himself, sitting down in a chair inside the porch of the home, fingers tracing the simple design and expensive material.  
  
"It's weird," Minseok murmurs, more to himself than to anyone self, but Sehun is listening, sitting near him with mild concern on his features, though Minseok can still spot the fear in his eyes. It's cute, and Minseok feels a faint spark of attraction, one that he blames on his headache, the light headed whoosh.  
  
"What's weird?" Sehun echoes, though he seems to catch Minseok's meaning half a moment, nodding absently.  
  
"I was outdoors and didn't need a gas mask," Minseok says, and he can't keep the wonder, the jealous bitterness from seeping through his voice. "We see the sun down on the Ground, but never this clear or bright. There's no haze."  
  
"We get fog sometimes, but I'm sure it's nothing near what the ground experiences," Sehun says, and he's glancing past Minseok out the porch window with a tight lipped kind of twitchy smile. An awkward one, that makes Minseok cringe slightly. Sehun is trying too hard, trying to seem at ease, impress Minseok.  
  
A scared kid. That's what he is, really. A scared kid that also seems years past his age, a scared kid with striking features and legs that lead Minseok's thoughts to some interesting places before he's snapping back to the present reality, tongue scraping across his teeth.  
  
"We should get going on this tour, yes?" He asks, and he's filled with a kind of nervous adrenaline, ready to get up, get moving, go, go, go.  
  
"I have clothes in my main house," Sehun responds, and he's licking his lips, looks confused, nervous. "You'll have to wait here though. Don't move."  
  
"I won't," Minseok assures him, and it's then that he's sees the slight distrust in Sehun's eyes, or perhaps not distrust but some kind of emotion Minseok can't place. He wonders how Sehun really came to become someone so set on helping the Syndicate.  
  
-  
  
They take a main road route through the city, and Minseok can't help but to stare in wonder at what's around him. The streets are thriving, people coming and going from tall, clean buildings; there are smiles on their faces, skips in their steps.  
  
Minseok thinks of his people as they walk, listening to explain how things work in the Sky City, mentally mapping each Alliance building; a nondescript building here, a high scale government building there.  
  
He grows bitter with each step taken, each word that falls from Sehun's mouth, thinking of how the Ground dwellers struggle living in underground tunnels, heavy masks letting the venture to the surface to the few buildings that still stand, the Syndicate being one of them.  
  
He also thinks of these people and their innocence, thinking that the Ground dwellers are gone and they're the only humans left, suspended into the sky to prosper until the ground is habitable again, until the dust subsides and humanity can once again reign.  
  
The Alliance Temple is the largest building in the city, towering over them with its towers of gold, steel, made from oppression and corruption. They're sitting on a bench, Sehun quietly discussing exits into the building, ways he can sneak into this main one to plant the bomb himself while the others are planted in the various others, when a voice interrupts.  
  
"Another friend I'm yet to meet."  
  
A man drapes himself over Sehun's back like he knows him well, cherubic features lighting up even as he surveys Minseok carefully with quickly narrowing eyes.  
  
"Sehun do you have a lot of friends or do you just get laid a lot?" The man asks, laughing when Sehun shakes him off with a sputter and a protest. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."  
  
"This is Minseok," Sehun introduces him, and he looks calm, as if he carts Ground dwellers around as Sky dwellers every day. "Minseok this is Lu Han."  
  
Lu Han's lips curl up into a smirk that Minseok isn't sure he likes, but he's attractive, shorter than Sehun but taller than Minseok, fair skin and large eyes that catch the sunlight beautifully.  
  
Minseok develops an instant sense of distrust.  
  
"I was actually looking just for you," Lu Han says to Sehun, barely acknowledging Minseok further. He looks ready for business, clothing sharp -- nicer than what Sehun had given Minseok -- and eyes sharper. "Your father needs you for dinner tonight. I tried looking for you at home but apparently you're going on city nature walks again."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with walking," Sehun grumbles, and he glances over at Minseok, lips pursed. "Let me walk my friend home."  
  
"There's no need for that," Lu Han says sharply, and Minseok sees Sehun cringe. This is obviously someone of higher power, probably an Alliance member. "I'm sure he can find his own way," Lu Han turns to Minseok with a gentler smile on his face. "You don't mind right? Sehun's father is an impatient man."  
  
"Of course not," Minseok says quietly, bowing to the both of them. He's not sure the exact way back to Sehun's villa, and the garden that leads him to the tunnels below, but Minseok feels an odd sense of calm in this city. "It was nice seeing you Sehun-ah," He calls to Sehun, tacking on the endearment casually to give an air of closeness. "I'll see you soon?"  
  
"I'll message you," Sehun says cheerfully, and Minseok hopes Lu Han doesn't notice the way his voice is slightly too loud, forced and fake. He's not the greatest actor, and Minseok makes a mental note to point this out next time they meet, or ask Jongdae.  
  
"Nice meeting you, Minseok," Lu Han says with a grin predatory and not all that friendly. Minseok can't help but to think the two look good together, like one of those couples that date and everyone comments on the growing to look like each other.  
  
He watches them disappear into the majestic building, teeth burrowing themselves into his bottom lip as he thinks more of the strange tightness in his chest, and less of the Syndicate's mission.  
  
Minseok also wonders what technology allows messaging without paper. He supposes it existed before the dust storms cut all main land power, but that was before his time, back when his parents were alive and forming the Syndicate.  
  
Back then, it had been tiny; a group of five or six intent on figuring out a way to stand up to the government that had trapped them here. They had built the Syndicate into what it is today: The driving force of hope that leads the Floor Sector into what they hope is what they deserve.  
  
And Minseok, the sole leader behind it all, the small teenage boy that had stepped into his parents shoes years too early, is too busy daydreaming about a spy from the Sky Sector to properly consider the next step in their plan.  
  
He shakes himself of the memories, the thoughts, the images that flash by that do not belong to his own mind -- a dream catcher, a lavish room of gold, an ornate collar sitting on a table -- turning the corner into the small garden where he pauses.  
  
Minseok walks over to the where the city seems to give out, careful not to touch the crackling fence. He peers through the wires at the tops of mountains in the distance, sees where the dust cloud ends and the pure, beautiful sky begins.  
  
He belongs up here. His people belong up here.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
Minseok is silent, legs crossed and eyes on the river, a tiny smile on his round face. He's not looking at Sehun, but his body is tilted towards him, as if recognizing and reacting to his presence on the bench beside him.  
  
They're out for the morning prayer, and yet Minseok has not yet said a word, has not yet acknowledged the sun coming up or the bread that awaits them indoors. His attention seems fine tuned to somewhere far away, somewhere that is not with Sehun, or with any dimension that is them.  
  
"Listen," Minseok says finally, voice hushed and head tilted, tiny smile growing larger. He moves finally too, points across the river towards a bowed building on the other shore. "If you listen close enough you can hear them."  
  
"Hear what, master?" Sehun asks, and he doesn't miss the way Minseok blissful smile becomes a smirk for the shortest second, pleased at Sehun using formalities properly; and perhaps something else there too, a hint of what Sehun had seen when Minseok had instructed to him to write about tension.  
  
"The violins," Minseok answers, reaching out and pulling Sehun flush against his side, hands carefully sliding across his jaw to turn his head towards the sound. It's intimate, and for a moment Sehun can't hear anything besides the blood that rushes through his ears and the pounding of his own heart.  
  
But he does hear them after he calms, settles into Minseok;s tentatively. Haunting violins, in unison and beautiful, the sound faint but noticeable, flowing across the river and onto the porch where they sit.  
  
"They practice there a lot," Minseok says and his smile hasn't left, just seems to get wider, more pleased. "It's a smaller symphony, but I can get us tickets next time they play."  
  
"I'm not good with music," Sehun says with a frown, and he feels a little less impressive, small in the face of probable talent, small next to Minseok who seems particularly at ease this morning, sighing as he leans back against the marble of the bench. "Are they talented?"  
  
"Extremely," Minseok comments, and he grins at Sehun, gums and all, before squeezing his arm. "We can skip the prayer this morning, I feel like hearing them play was enough of a gift from some heaven or other. Come, let's eat the bread you picked out yesterday."  
  
"You could consider it a lesson," Minseok says in between mouthfuls of bread, lounging on curved window seat in one of his offshoot rooms. It's a room Sehun rarely enters, but he likes it in here, likes the way the sunlight only barely streams through thin windows and the way shadows fall across the wood flooring that feels nice under his bare feet.  
  
"Sorry?" Sehun asks, and he's confused, looking at his own half eaten bread as if it holds the key to life.  
  
"Not the bread," Minseok laughs, and that's another thing Sehun likes about this room, the way the one tiny sliver of sunlight falls across Minseok's face, lights up his features, brings a sparkle to his eye. Sehun likes it here. "The symphony. When we go, it could be a music lesson."  
  
"Ah," Sehun says with a nod, and it breaks the spell, brings him back to the reality that he just an apprentice, and Minseok is an unattainable master, too powerful, too old, of the same gender. Sehun needn't press his luck when he's never had any.  
  
"Don't speak so rudely," Minseok scolds him, though his voice is light hearted, holding no malice. "And with half chewed bread in your mouth. Are you but a lowly peasant?"  
  
"And what would you say if I was?"  
  
"I would laugh," Minseok says firmly, and he's crossed his legs again, fallen back into shadow as a cloud crosses the sun. "I would laugh and present to you the bag of florins that was sent my way for your last month's payment."  
  
"Ah, but--" Sehun starts before stopping to add, "Master Minseok."  
  
"Yes, that's me," Minseok says airily, and he's finished his bread by now, settled in to do his usual "assessing" of Sehun staring at him without blinking, almond eyes growing more intimidating by the second.  
  
"My family holds the wealth, but I do not yet hold my own," Sehun presses on, ignoring the way MInseok's collarbones dip as he stretches his neck to the side, comfortable and much like a cat. "So does that not make me a peasant?"  
  
"It depends on what you define as a peasant," Minseok counteracts, but he's paying attention now, eyes alert, and knowing smirk back on his lips. "Is a peasant one that lacks wealth, or is a peasant one that lacks wealth for their entire family? Or perhaps is a peasant one that shows the common attitude of a peasant?"  
  
"I would assume the first one, but also the second," Sehun answers with a tone of finality, a decision he is sure is the right answer.  
  
"And why is that?" Minseok prods, leaning forward to rest on his knees, youthful glimmer dancing around him, excitement always at the chance for a good discussion. Sehun is learning, trying to wrap his head around the process of the argument, around placing the points in the right order.  
  
"Because it is the common definition," Sehun says, and he realizes that he doesn't sound that intelligent, sounds like the prejudiced boy Minseok often tells him he is. "There's no reason to see it otherwise when there's no one to keep a different belief of the word."  
  
"But the general consensus is not always correct," Minseok muses, and he stretches out his arms, muscles toned and contracting, beautiful. Sehun wonders when he has the chance to exercise, as he's pretty sure he has only left Minseok's side to sleep since arriving in Florence. Perhaps the muscle has just stayed, solid from hard work and not ready to take leave any time soon.  
  
Sehun isn't sure how to bring something like that up, so he keeps quiet, awaits Minseok's next point.  
  
"What about the common definition of something makes it correct? Nothing," Minseok tells him, and Sehun bites his tongue, holds down his snappy answer.  _He was trying to make a point and Minseok had missed it._  
  
"Nothing," Sehun says instead of arguing, deflating at the first sign of insecurity, the first sign of confusion that seeps into him. He's usually set on his opinions, set on the ways his mind works and what he knows, but Minseok has a way of getting under his skin, of making him disbelieve his deepest conceptions.  
  
"Exactly," Minseok says, triumphant. "I could start a rumour that pianos hold the essence of the devil, and have it be completely false, but if the entirety of Florence takes it as truth and molds it into common piano knowledge, would that make it true?"  
  
"No, definitely not," Sehun murmurs, and he speaks up, says his point before the anxiety hits again, before Minseok starts speaking and he can no longer get a word in. "I never said it was correct. I said that there was no point in arguing for the other option since it is so commonly believed that it would change nothing."  
  
"And you don't believe in changing the world?" Minseok asks, and his eyes are serous, boring into Sehun's own. There's a quirk of a smile, the only thing that seems to show that Minseok is playing, having a fun discussion, and it calms Sehun down, has his breathing evening out, level.  
  
"I'm far too lazy to change the world," Sehun admits, and this gets a real smile from Minseok, a barking laugh that startles one of Sehun's own giggles. It breaks the mood of the room, has the discussion forgotten as Minseok gets to his feet and leads Sehun down the hall.  
  
"To buy more bread," Minseok states, and he pulls a coat around Sehun's shoulders, says that it's chilly today, more so than usual. "You seem to eat all of mine."  
  
Sehun blushes, both out of guilt and at the act of Minseok dressing him, at the subtle brush of fingers across the skin of his neck, a light touch that his breath hitching for a moment. It's only been a few weeks, and here Sehun is, folding himself up into a box to present to his master.  
  
And yet this feels different, the way Minseok tugs gently at his wrist as they wind through streets, finding a merchant further in the city limits, fancier kinds of bread. It isn't just a regular need to submit, isn't just his natural struggle against authority and bending to it.  
  
He wants to submit to Minseok himself and not just his title, wants to be the best student he possibly can, but also the best person.  
  
Sehun can feel himself becoming both.  
  
  


 

 

 

  
_"Go ahead and tell that story  
I will learn it again and again"_

 

 

 

  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
Minseok's hotel suite is massive.  
  
It's bigger than any  _house_  Sehun has ever seen or been inside, and it has her staying near the edges of rooms, peeking around the corner as she follows Minseok into her room, sits on her bed gingerly with a look of awe on her face.  
  
"This isn't a hotel, it's a condo," Sehun says aloud, and she's a little shocked, staring at Minseok who seems unconcerned by her wonder.  
  
"It's comfortable," Minseok shrugs, and Sehun stops to admire the way her hair is curled, ringlets that remind her of a 1960's starlet, pure and beautiful. Sehun knows by now that she's nowhere near pure, instead devious and strong willed, outstanding personality matched by her gorgeousness. "It's no home, though," Minseok tells her as she sits next to Sehun, lets herself fall back onto the mattress with a sigh, ringlets unraveling to fan behind her.  
  
She looks like she's walked straight from a music video, one of the summery ones with beaches and cars and tall boys in denim jeans.  
  
Sehun is smitten, though she knows it's not romantic, not sexual. Just smitten with their growing friendship, the way Minseok has taken her under wing even with Sehun fighting her. She's persistent and wonderful, and as usual Sehun has no idea what to call her feelings.  
  
She wonders if there's a word for what she is, wonders if there's something wrong with her, someone who's never had an interest in love, in sex, in boys or the happy ideals that they provide.  
  
Sehun supposes that if she  _did_  feel romantic things, if she  _did_  have a need for it, it wouldn't be for a boy. And what do she call that? Does she calls herself a lesbian when she wants nothing more than just a friend?  
  
"Baekhyun will be here at five," Minseok mumbles from beside her, and Sehun wants nothing more than to lie down next to Minseok, to feel her own hair fan out and pretend that she too, looks like a star. "I'll need to teach you the layout of the place, teach you where things are. It won't fool her if you can't find the bathroom light or don't know where the plates are kept."  
  
"You keep plates in a hotel?" Sehun asks, perplexed.  
  
"It has a kitchenette," Minseok laughs, and even her laugh is that of a celebrities, that of a flowing actress that knows which bells to twinkle, which cameras to look into. And yet it doesn't feel, doesn't seem like a forced laugh. It's just very Minseok. "We can't eat at the buffet  _everyday_  you know."  
  
"I'm nervous," Sehun admits, and she does summon the courage to lie down next to Minseok, heart pounding with the nerves of a still new friendship; a strange friendship that started in a way that Sehun never imagined. She can feel the gap in their lives here more than ever, and yet she knows Minseok comes from simpler things, has just adapted, grown into the life.  
  
"Bravery, young one," Minseok says loudly, and it's punctuated with another laugh, this one less pretty, more boyish. "Baekhyun is just an annoying teenage girl, and you, you are sunshine."  
  
"How cheesy," Sehun mutters before she can stop herself, and she's nervous for a moment, wound up and unsure, thinking she's said something wrong, but Minseok just hits her playfully, sits up on her hands and knees, laughs.  
  
"It's practice for when I get my dream part in a romantic comedy," Minseok says with a sigh, and she flops back down, throws her legs over Sehun like they've known each other for years, as opposed to weeks. "Will you come to my vip screenings when I'm famous?"  
  
"Of course," Sehun snorts, and she's surprised at how  _okay_  she is with Minseok's legs across her own. She usually hates being touched. "Have you acted in things?"  
  
"Musicals back home," Minseok says with a sigh, a sad kind of exhale that has Sehun momentarily worried, before her walls go back up and she doesn't ask. "I'm not even a great singer."  
  
"You're pretty enough," Sehun blurts out, and she suddenly feels awkward, exposed, untucks herself from Minseok's legs, looks away.  
  
"You're so cute," Minseok squeals, and she looks like she wants to reach out, wants to touch, but she does something Sehun's mother doesn't, something her old friends didn't. She keeps her distance, doesn't look concerned or offended at Sehun's sudden change of attitude.  
  
Sehun feels respected.  
  
"We have things to do though, little flower," Minseok says right in her ear, tugging gently at Sehun's arm in a way that's okay and not too much. "The clock ticks to Baekhyun's arrival."  
  
It sends a shiver down Sehun's spine.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg; Year 2013**  
  
  
"I'm leaving in two days," Sehun murmurs, voice quiet in Minseok's room, watching the dust particles hang in the air, the late afternoon sun highlighting each tiny fluff. "I don't want to go."  
  
"I don't want you to go either," Minseok says, muffled from where he's lying, half under Sehun with his face squished into his naked chest. They're sleepy, sated, not wanting to get up, buy dinner, do people things that don't involve cuddling until they're ready for another round.  
  
It's perfect,  _too_  perfect, and Sehun has to bite his fist to stop the whine that wants to emerge, cuddles closer to Minseok, whispers in his ear, words of nonsense and love that Minseok bats away with a blush.  
  
It's not often that Minseok is the flustered one, and Sehun treasures each moment he is. Each shy smile, or mouth-covered giggle, each red tipped ear and "Sehun stop" that comes laughing from his mouth.  
  
He doesn't want to leave.  
  
Minseok orders pizza for them, answers the door half naked and ruffled with a lazy grin, tips the blushing delivery girl an extra ten dollars, closes the door with a loud laugh before returning to Sehun where he burrows underneath the blankets.  
  
"Pizza's here," Minseok grumbles into Sehun's shoulder, and it's funny, the way he's lying, head smooshed into Sehun and butt in the air. Sehun can't help but to reach out, slide his palms across Minseok's ass, squeeze a little.  
  
"Don't do that," Minseok complains, and he wiggles his butt around, flops down onto his side and  _pouts_.  
  
And these moments are rare enough to treasure also. The moments when Minseok walls are fully down, when he voluntarily indulges Sehun, does all the things he knows he loves, knows get to him.  
  
Sehun can never decide which Minseok he likes better. He loves all of them, loves sappy Minseok and sexual deviant Minseok and cuddly Minseok and serious Minseok and loving adult Minseok and--  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Minseok interrupts, face inches from Sehun's own. Sehun can feel another flush creeping up, realizing he hasn't moved his hand from Minseok's ass, has been resting it there and staring into space.  
  
"You," Sehun says, and Minseok pulls a face at this, scrunches up his nose, fake grimaces.  
  
"I'm right here," Minseok says seriously, before a smile slowly stretches across his face. Sehun loves those smiles most, the slow ones that he can't explain, can't describe their beauty. "You should be thinking of the pizza."  
  
He really loves Minseok.  
  
He doesn't want to leave.  
  
Sehun does also really love pizza though, and that has him crawling from MInseok's bed to throw on a pair of Minseok's sweatpants. They hug his thighs, hug his ass, only go to his ankle, but they're perfect.  _Because they're Minseok's_  
  
Sehun wonders if he can steal some hoodies when he leaves for Seoul. He feels Minseok wouldn't mind; he loves seeing Sehun in his clothes, loves peeling them from Sehun's body and whispering  _mine_ , loves the whimpers that come from Sehun when he does.  
  
They sit in Minseok's kitchen, Sehun with his legs stretched across two chairs, leaning back into Minseok who sits in a third. It's impractical, silly, but Sehun refuses to not be touching Minseok right now, refuses to let go, like a cat that clings with its claws when lifted from a comfortable lap.  
  
Minseok doesn't seem to mind, indulges him always, feeds him pizza, laughing when one falls from Minseok's hands to the floor, messy from their strange positions.  
  
Sehun wonders if the pizza in Korea will taste as good as the pizza that Minseok feeds him.  
  
He can't help but feel sad, weighed down and heavy by the knowledge that soon he'll be boarding a plane, that soon he'll back in the heavy atmosphere of his strict household, with his mother who disapproves of this trip,who disapproves of everything Sehun is.  
  
At least she's grateful for a chance to get rid of him, send him abroad to school. As long as he becomes something, as long as he makes her wallet proud.  
  
Sehun doesn't really have a mother.  
  
Sehun fixes his sad by wiggling on top of Minseok once they've settled back into bed. They've become lazy, watching movies, having sex, talking and snuggling but rarely going out.  
  
Sehun's had his fix of traveling, of running around the city. All he wants is Minseok for the next while, just wants to smell his faded cologne, feel the slow crawl of fingers as they trace words into every inch of Sehun's skin.  
  
Minseok dozes off, drooling on Sehun's arm, small fingers curled around the waistband of the sweats Sehun wears like he knows he owns what's inside. Sehun cherishes these moments too, when Minseok seems innocent, fragile, the complete opposite of what he really is, and yet truly who he is.  
  
Sehun watches the dream catcher, temporarily hanging from a push pin in Minseok's bulletin. It really is pretty, really is so him, so them. Sehun sleepily smiles at it, turns over and burrows into Minseok, feeling like if he were a cat he could purr.  
  
He never wants to leave.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
Minseok follows the tribe all the way back to the gates, slinks past and around them, inside an entrance only he knows, slinking up a ladder and onto the security docks, tugs at the arm of the young man nodding off at his post.  
  
"There's a tribe, just outside the gates," Minseok says quietly, rousing him, but stopping him from pulling the alarm. "They have a prisoner, and they want Sehun. Call through your speaker quietly. We can ambush them."  
  
"Rescue the prisoner?" The young man asks, and he's much more awake now, radio to his ear, speaking quietly into it, urgently.  
  
Minseok nods, narrows his eyes. "They want to trade and threaten a life for a life, but they think no one knows they are coming," He says quickly. "We easily outnumber them and outweapon them. I think it's the same tribe that killed our own."  
  
"They're setting up along the gates," The guard says, and he's awfully calm for someone his age, soft eyes serious as the shadows begin to appear on the dark horizon. "It's a small group, no?"  
  
"Five, six if you include the prisoner," Minseok says, and he nearly begins to shake, remembering fear in the man's eyes. "They have spears but if we shoot before they can harm him or us, we should be fine."  
  
"Why aren't you on security detail?" The young man asks Minseok, and he seems interested, mildly surprised at how Minseok is handling the situation.  
  
"I'm no fighter," Minseok says simply, and he shrugs, turning to the man and surveying him. "What's your name?"  
  
"Jongin," The young man says, and now he seems shy, ducking away and crouching down, eyes large as the tribe members come into view. He seems scared by the large one, but he breathes deeply, glances up at Minseok. "Cover me?" Jongin asks nervously, and he holds out a mall needle pistol, looks pleading.  
  
"I've got you Jongin," Minseok says, and he crawls back down the ladder, positions himself behind it's rungs, waits for the shots to start. He's no fighter, but he's no loser either, not one to back down when he feels a need, a hope,  _fear._  
  
Two lives are at stake, both Sehun's and the trembling boy that makes his heart shake for reasons he's unable to understand.  
  
The first shot rings out clear and a tribe member falls, the one stationed closest to the prisoner. Minseok sucks in a breath, unsure of his aim, quivering limbs pulling back a trigger.  
  
His shot rings out clear also, and the tribe scatters, screams, a war cry as they leave the prisoner standing confused in the middle of the clearing. The other one closest to him falls to the ground, slain by Minseok's sharp needle bullet. His aim hadn't failed after all.  
  
Minseok had expected things to be wilder, more terrifying, but his legs carry themselves as he darts into the clearing, grabs the prisoner roughly by his wrist and drags him behind the ladder, out of sight behind the guard tower.  
  
The prisoner thrashes at first, terrified, but he calms once he recognizes Minseok from out in the rocklands, stills and takes heaving breaths, shaking, full body shivers. There's a gratefulness in his eyes that makes Minseok feel _something_ , a thumb of his heart that confuses him, a swoop of his stomach.  
  
Things he feels for Sehun.  
  
He doesn't have  _time_  to explore these guilty thoughts ,just feels a rush of worry for how thin this man is, for the rope burns on his wrists and the gashes across his bare hips.  
  
"Are you okay?" Minseok asks him, voice gentle, calming. One he uses with Sehun when his husband is at his worst, one that never ceases to stop the panic, the tears.  
  
"Yes, thank you," The prisoner says, and his voice is surprisingly steady, eyes bright, intelligent. "Why did you save me though?"  
  
"I can't bear the guilt of letting an innocent person die at the hands of savages," Minseok says simply, before looking down. "Also the person they wanted to trade you with is my husband."  
  
"Your Dal-path?" The prisoner asks with interest, and his eyes are sad now, understanding.  
  
"I'm the Dal-path," Minseok says, slightly offended. He's used to being slighted for his height, stature, soft look, but everyone at the compound knows Minseok is of an Alpha status.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," The prisoner says, and he looks sheepish, shy. "My name is Lu Han."  
  
Minseok nods, and he can't figure out why, but the name seems familiar, sparks something in him. He feels this Lu Han will somehow be important in his life.  
  
_a missing link_  Comes the whispered thought, unwanted in his brain, and yet needed.  
  
Minseok stares at Lu Han, takes in every inch of him, the strength he knows lies beneath the undernourishment. He'll be good for their colony, a good worker, the softness of someone who could attract children.  
  
A missing link.  
  
_but for what?_  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
The symphony is intimidating.  
  
Sehun feels uncomfortable in his frills, robes, ridiculous trousers, but such is the fashion of a high status apprentice at an orchestra of any scale. Minseok is at ease beside him, resting a comforting hand on Sehun's satin clad shoulder, smiling gently every time he feels Sehun shake.  
  
Sehun's never been to a symphony-orchestra before, has never been in a seat in a crowd, watching the instruments set up, beautiful, expensive looking instruments. The piano looks much like the one that sits in Minseok's room, old and battered, yet full of probable memories, beautiful ones.  
  
"How long until it starts?" Sehun asks Minseok, leans over to whisper to him, feeling as if he shouldn't speak loud, shouldn't be heard by others. The corset he has on under his frilly over shirt isn't helping either, constricting his airways; but familiar, calming, a little piece of himself hidden in plain sight to ease the nerves that burst from his skin in small droplets of cold sweat.  
  
"A few minutes," Minseok replies at a normal volume, making Sehun feel smaller, more nervous. "Don't be so jittery. This is an event for enjoyment."  
  
  
  
"I'm sorry master," Sehun says back and he too attempts to raise his voice up to a normal volume, trying not to whisper, to squeak.  
  
Minseok smiles at him, does something uncharacteristic; he reaches out and squeezes Sehun's hand. It's reassuring, sends a rush through Sehun, has him breathing heavier but slower, calmer and yet not.  
  
And this is what Minseok does to him, stresses and calms him at the same time, has him worrying and nervous, yet happy, content, everything Sehun has wanted to be.  
  
Sehun is sure he never wants to go home from this master, letting himself settle into the seat with a half smile, craning his neck to see various people file on stage, holding instruments, eyes on a man at the front of the room who seems ready to conduct.  
  
Sehun remembers going over this with an old master, but can't seem to grasp the details. It all seems so new to him, and he's entranced the moment the violins start, the moment a choir sings, deep voices and high harmonies along with the piano, conducted to near perfection.  
  
It may be just a small symphony according to Minseok, but to Sehun it's something huge. He wonders if his little piano piece can achieve this kind of life soon, could become something, and yet he never wants it to, never wants to showcase his heart to a room of strangers with money.  
  
He's so caught up in the music that he doesn't notice Minseok still holding his hand, barely registers the way he plays with his fingers, thumb stroking across his palm like one would to a lover. Sehun feels something change in his heart watching a soloist step forward, sing high and clear and beautiful, piercing, lovely.  
  
He feels a sudden want to try his voice lessons again, to let Minseok bring him through the scales. Sehun wonders if this is what Minseok meant by the word passion, a striking of breathless feeling that stabs right into his heart, not painfully, but soaring with each stroke of a bow across strings.  
  
"That was beautiful," He manages when they've finished, bowed in unison and exited. They're standing in the aisle, Minseok's grip still tight around his own, -- "To guide you through the crowds" -- face passive but heart wanting to burst.  
  
"I was hoping you'd like it," Minseok says, sounding relieved. "I was worried that you'd be bored."  
  
"One cannot be bored when they are in the presence of such beauty," Sehun breathes, and he feels Minseok's fingers loosen at his hand, relax rather than hold. It feels nice, right, and Sehun finally pays attention, looks at Minseok beside him.  
  
He wishes he could look up at Minseok like he wants to, become small for his master. Docile, perfect. The thoughts don't feel degrading but liberating, something that causes Sehun's heart to squeeze, this time painfully.  
  
Unattainable, still.  
  
"I want to try again," Sehun says as they wind through the streets, a long walk home across the river and through the heart of the city.  
  
"Try what?" Minseok asks in surprise, eyebrows lifting into his hair. He's stopped holding Sehun's hand, instead swinging his own at his sides like a small child, radiant smile glowing in the late twilight.  
  
Sehun has grown quite fond of how Minseok looks during sunrises and sunsets, the colours complimenting his beauty, his face shape, everything.  
  
"Singing," Sehun says with a surety in his voice. "That made me want to try again."  
  
"We can soon," Minseok assures him, looking quite pleased. "I'm glad you're so eager to put effort into your various lessons now."  
  
"I was always eager," Sehun says with a pout, but he tugs at the sleeves of his tunic guiltily.  
  
"A little while ago you did your lessons because that was what you were here for," Minseok says, and he sounds proud. Sehun likes the feeling, having Minseok be proud of him. His  _master_ , proud of him. "Now you do your lessons because you want to."  
  
I guess you've just sparked my interest master," Sehun says, and he resists the urge to bow. He doesn't quite respect Minseok that much yet, not enough to keel or bow and give himself up. He may be getting there, may be considering it, but not yet. "You're just a good teacher."  
  
"I'm glad to hear this," Minseok replies softly, and he once again stops before the door of his villa to watch Sehun's ritual, his habit of watching the sky until it's fully dark. Sehun feels incomplete when he misses sunsets, feels like there's a missing link he should know about, a face in the crowd that will become clear in the dying rays of the sun.  
  
He turns back to Minseok, eye smile showing as he parades into the home, falls asleep blissful, happy, enraptured by the future.  
  
_un evento che cambia la vita_  
  


 

 

╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
Baekhyun arrives an hour late, nose upturned as Sehun lets her into the hotel suite. Baekhyun seems impressed that Sehun is even there to let her in, as if she expected to find a maid, or no Sehun at all.  
  
"I've stayed in this suite," Baekhyun says, making her too comfortable on the leather couches near the television, eyeing the heavy VCR underneath it. "I've got a nicer TV at home though. Newest model, just released this year."  
  
"Congratulations," Sehun says wearily, sitting awkward on a couch adjacent to her, legs crossed and eyes on the ground. She feels lost without Minseok in the room, nervous jitters shaking her legs. She needs to stand up to Baekhyun, hold her ground, be brave, but Baekhyun is intimidating, powerful,  _rich_  and Sehun is small, poor, a nobody in a world where those who love flourish, those with money can rise above the others, avoid the woes of New York.  
  
"Was that sarcasm?" Baekhyun asks scathingly, prim in her designer clothes, whatever brand they happen to be. Sehun knows nothing about clothes, but she knows the ones she's currently wearing are expensive.  
  
Her skirt is too short and her shirt fits too tightly at the chest, but they're borrowed from Minseok's closet, shoved into her hands with a command of  _you're acting rich, dress rich_.  
  
Baekhyun doesn't seem to notice, making herself at home and turning on the TV, flipping channels with a bored look in her eyes, dull and dead, but calculating.  
  
"So are you going to feed me?" She asks after a while, sharp glare on Sehun now. Sehun feels herself closing up, nerves making her robotic as she stutters out a yes, rises to her feet to walk Baekhyun to the kitchen area, mentally remembering where the dishes are, where the food they prepared earlier rests in the fridge.  
  
"I cooked myself," Sehun says, turning to Baekhyun with an apprehensive kind of smile. "I hope you don't mind. If it isn't what you wanted, we can eat at the buffet downstairs?"  
  
"I haven't had a home cooked meal in a long time," Baekhyun says, and something flashes across her face for a moment, a look that only someone like Sehun could catch, with her close observation skills and reading between the lines.  
  
One must be good at that kind of thing in a dangerous lower east side school, where the wrong body language could mean a knife, a gun, a bottle to the head.  
  
"I've had the buffet here enough times," Baekhyun continues with a shrug that doesn't fit the girlish beauty she presents always. "Are these stuffed mushrooms?"  
  
"Yes," Sehun says with a nod, too quick. The collar of her blouse feels too tight, suffocating.  
  
"Wonderful," Baekhyun says, delicately cutting one in half and placing only the half on her plate. She does it so carefully not a single ingredient spills out, and Sehun is momentarily amazed, stunned by the action.  
  
Sehun has always been a messy eater, but she supposes for someone of such a high class, table manners are of utmost importance. She's out of her league, will always be out of her league here.  
  
It's nearly time for Minseok to rescue her though. Nearly time for her to burst through the door and exclaim that Sehun had missed plans, that Baekhyun needs to get going because she's important, damn it.  
  
Sehun's not sure she can last another five minutes in Baekhyun's overwhelming presence, feeling the judgmental stare, the still disbelief in her eyes.  
  
"Where is your Mother?" Baekhyun asks once she's finished carefully eating her mushroom, tongue flicking out to clean her fork, and even that action seems delicate, practiced. Sehun wonders just how robotic Baekhyun really is, just how precise and routine every thing she does is.  
  
School, her family, her piercing attitude.  
  
"She's overseas right now," Sehun says, a rehearsed line to explain the absence of anyone else. And it's only a half lie; Minseok's Mother  _is_  currently overseas in Europe.  
  
"Convenient," Baekhyun muses, lips curling into a threatening grin. Something about it has Sehun's temper flaring, something that doesn't occur often. "Does she not care about you? Leaving you in a  _hotel_  alone while she gallivants overseas?"  
  
Sehun's tempers flares, flames flickering into her throat, not for herself but for Minseok, who really is stuck in a hotel with her Mother overseas. ("It's only for a month. I'm used to it, don't give me that look.")  
  
"Don't be rude," Sehun snaps, and she feels her fingers curling into her palms, nails digging in. How cliché. "Don't insult someone else's family when you know nothing."  
  
"Did I strike a nerve?" Baekhyun asks, and she's still calm, irritatingly so, threatening smile growing into a wide grin. Sehun can count all of her perfectly white teeth, and it disgusts her.  
  
"Minseok was right," Sehun says suddenly, and she gets to her feet, towers over Baekhyun who still sits on the couch. "I do need to stand up to you. I don't even live here. I live in the lower east side, in a tiny apartment. I'm a scholarship student."  
  
"I was just beginning to believe your lies," Baekhyun says sadly, but she too is rising to her feet, looking unimpressed. "I guess it's time to make your life hell."  
  
"You can't though," Sehun says, and she flips a length of her hair over her shoulder, towers over Baekhyun even while they stand. "I don't  _care_  about you."  
  
"Will you care when you have no friends?" Baekhyun taunts, and she's still grinning. Sehun wants to wipe it off her face. "When you can't even find a place to eat? When everyone looks down on you because of your lack of money?"  
  
"I have a friend," Sehun says with a shrug, and she's turning towards the door, startling to find Minseok standing just inside, smiling with a kind of pride that has Sehun's heart soaring. "And neither of us give a shit about your petty rich girl schemes. Get out."  
  
Baekhyun says nothing, just tucks her blouse into her skirt, adjusts the headband atop her head. She's staring at Minseok with a kind of apprehension, a look in her eyes that Sehun is yet to see, doesn't recognize.  
  
And Sehun remembers Minseok saying that Baekhyun is scared of her, leaves her alone. She suddenly feels a surge of safety, of protection. Baekhyun is giving her that same look, gulping and backing down.  
  
All because she's friends with Minseok.  
  
"I'll leave you to it," Baekhyun says then, bitterly, sounding confused and kind of broken. Sehun wonders if she has anything in life besides her high school power, wonders if it brings her down a notch too far to not be able to control everyone.  
  
Baekhyun leaves without another word, slamming the suite door behind her, footsteps echoing as she walks down the hallway and out of earshot.  
  
"You did it," Minseok breathes, and she's in front of Sehun,  _beaming_  at her, eyes crinkling, beautiful. And Sehun feels impressive, tall, wonderful, as if all she's ever wanted is Minseok's approval. "You stood up to her."  
  
"She pissed me off," Sehun admits, and she slinks to the couch, sinks down into the cushions and let's out a breath like she'd been holding it for the past few hours. She's tired, drained from the efforts of being someone she never has been. "She insulted your family life and for some reason it set me off. How dare someone say things when they have no idea what the situation is actually like?"  
  
"Thank you for sticking up for me," Minseok says quietly, and when Sehun turns to look at her Minseok's eyes are wide with shock, gratitude. Sehun feels something then, squeezing in her heart. Like a friend, but more. Not romantic, not sexual, but more than a friend. Someone she wants to impress, to love, to be the best friend she possibly can.  
  
The most special friend.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, The Alliance**  
  
"You know of the Syndicate?" Sehun's Father asks him, voice booming, threatening as he stares at Sehun across the long table, Sehun seated at the opposite. The other Alliance leaders have long since left, leaving just the two of them, and Sehun is weary, bored, disengaged. He's ready to head down to the tunnels, to seek out Minseok and apologize for earlier, to get away from the stuffiness, the hatred feels for the man before him.  
  
"Of course," Sehun says, and he tries to keep the level respectfulness in his tone, tries to keep out the bitter sarcasm. "The government of the Floor Sector that as no hold and yet threatens to consume us."  
  
"Exactly," Sehun's Father says, nodding. Sehun has said something right. "And yet some of the Alliance leaders have shown genuine worry. Why is that?"  
  
"Why is that Father?" Sehun echoes, voice still polite, but he tacks on a hint of confusion, of eagerness to know. Practiced, fake, settled to perfection. He's not the greatest actor, but with his Father he has years of experience.  
  
"They've apparently got a spy in the Sky Sector, feeding them information, materials, helping them," His Father says in a solemn voice, and Sehun feels himself stiffening, worrying. Not for himself, but for Jongdae, the probable prime suspect.  
  
"An Alliance leader?" Sehun asks, and he swallows down his fear, keeps his voice steady. His Father has no reason to suspect him, the trophy son. "Is this why you had them leave early?"  
  
"It seems I can't trust many people anymore," Sehun's Father says, and he's looking past Sehun, out the large windows that adorn the walls of the conference room. "It's a good thing I have my son."  
  
The way he says it is a threat, a warning to Sehun to stay that way, to stay the loyal, loving, perfect son.  
  
Sehun is fearful now, hands still at his sides, shaking slightly with the urge to cover his face, to nervously scratch at his nose, little habits that he forces down.  
  
"We're probably going to take them out cleanly," His Father continues on, and he looks thoughtful,  _eager._  "Get rid of their resources and personnel before they even have a chance."  
  
"Is that possible?" Sehun asks, and he can't keep the shock out of his voice this time, eyes widening fractionally. His Father looks amused, tiny emotions flitting across his usually impassive face before he nods.  
  
"We have nuclear weapons at our disposal," He says calmly. "Take out the Floor Sector for good. It would be a blessing for them really. They lead such miserable lives."  
  
Sehun pales, but he nods with his Father, holds down the panic, the sick. "Soon?" He asks, and his voice shakes the smallest bit.  
  
"After my investigation is complete and I find the spy," His Father says, and the note of finality has Sehun standing, bowing exactly ninety degrees. "I want him caught in the blast."  
  
"Always so cruel," Sehun says flippantly, the right amount of humour at the right time, to please his father.  
  
"Of course," His Father tells him, leading him from the conference room and up to their private helicopter, where he'll drop Sehun off directly at his villa. "The only direction one must look is up, unless you are an Oh. The Ground dwellers may look, but they aren't allowed to think they can touch. If anyone survives this it will serve as a lesson."  
  
"Teach them their place," Sehun says with conviction, though his heart feels hollow. He has a sense of even more connection to the Floor Sector, a fear. He knows the passion and hurt that had flashed across Minseok's eyes multiple ties, how much this means to a nation of people who have done nothing but be born to families that lack wealth.  
  
Sehun sits on his porch, stares at the gardens and watches the air duct swirl, in view but not, like radiation hanging in the air. He's scared, to travel to the tunnels and seek out Minseok, to warn him of what's going on, of his Father's warnings.  
  
It's with heavy limbs that he finally rises, dropping into the air duct with his eyes shut. Minseok deserves to know.  
  


 

 

 

  
_“The soul remembers what a person cannot - that is the unspoken rule.” - unknown_

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Over the ocean; Year 2013**  
  
  
Devastated is a good way to describe Sehun's current condition. He's slumped into his plane seat, eyes blank on the window, blank when the attendant asks him what he wants to drink, blank as he walks through the aisles to pee.  
  
Blank.  
  
His last day in Canada had been a blur. A blur of feelings, people, Minseok kissing him hard in the middle of the airport, only getting shy last second; an act, really. Sehun had been kind of out of it -- still is.  
  
He feels a little dramatic, feels like throwing a tantrum, but this is the hardest thing he's ever had to do, and he doesn't want to leave, even though he already has. Sehun does what he does best, he mopes. He listens to every sad song on his phone, asks the old lady sitting beside him in broken English if she's ever been heartbroken.  
  
Her long story soothes him a little bit, and he dozes off before she finishes.  
  
Sehun mopes at the airport, though he plasters on a smile for his parents, nods and raves about his trip to Canada to see his future roommate, says he really wants to study there. His parents are proud, clapping him on the back and kissing his cheek.  
  
Sehun wishes he could tell them the truth.  
  
Not that he doesn't want to study in Canada -- he does -- but the real reason he's chosen, the real reason he visited a "friend," but South Korea isn't Canada, and his parents aren't progressive.  
  
His Mother disown him probably. Scold and hate for him doing something so awful, so sinful, for disobeying the family way. She only cares if Sehun is making money, is moving towards the future she wants.  
  
He probably won't go back one day. Just leave and live his life in Canada, get a citizenship, sleep curled up in Minseok's arms every night for the rest of their lives, fingers adorned with pretty wedding bands.  
  
Sehun nearly cries in the car room thinking about, picturing him and Sehun getting married, suits beautiful. He pictures them at an adoption agency with a child, pictures them weaving a dream catcher for them, pictures them cuddling on the couch watching late night television, suits from a busy work day forgotten in the laundry pile.  
  
One thing Sehun knows is that this definitely has been the highlight of his life, the pressure of everything gone, his breaths coming out easy, wonderful. And what is it now, without Minseok?  
  
And Sehun knows he's being dramatic when his phone lights up, a Line message from Minseok himself, a reminder that this is how things were before, this is what Sehun's used to.  
  
_distance only makes the heart grow fonder right? strengthens love?_  
  
And there is a kind of ease to their texting now, the familiarity that comes with in person talks, the flippant way of joking that they know will translate over text, the memories that hang over their heads.  
  
Minseok can't Skype the first night Sehun is home. "Even if you're jet lagged and on my timezone," He scolds over Line. "Doesn't mean that I won't be busy."  
  
Sehun feels like he's falling a little, tying the dream catcher up on his window frame so that it hangs directly above his head as he sleeps. It isn't the only thing Minseok had bought him, isn't the only thing he's brought back with him, and yet it feels like the most important.  
  
He lies on his bed, stares at the ceiling, watches beams of sunlight stream create patterns on the ceiling, shining through the woven ends of the dream catcher. Sehun falls asleep pretty quickly, phone held close to his chest and knees tucked beneath him like a child.  
  
He misses Minseok already.  
  
  
  


 

 

 

  
_When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.  
-Khalil Gibran_

 

 

 

  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
Sehun can't quite seem to get the hang of singing, but he does understand why Minseok loves singing, realizes that it doesn't matter whether he's good at it, but whether he enjoys it. Whether he has the passion to sing loudly and lively, laughing when a cracked note has Minseok cringing, grinning widely.  
  
Sehun however does improve at the piano, showing Minseok his efforts, playing easy songs, sheet music given to him. But it's something, and it's more than Sehun has ever done for anyone else who's tried to teach him.  
  
He feels like he's becoming a better person, becoming something of the good that Minseok often speaks about, feels as though he's understanding respect, speaking kindly even to those that are not Minseok. Sehun feels self-aware, feels like he could fly if Minseok would only teach him how. He tells Minseok this as they rest -- long day of Sehun attempting to use charcoal done -- and Minseok prods him, keeps him talking.  
  
"I think I'm becoming a good person," Sehun speaks seriously, the two large glasses of wine from dinner causing him to be brave, to sit with Minseok as an equal, speak his mind. "I definitely am, thanks to you."  
  
"I'm flattered," Is Minseok's response, but it sounds caged, something hidden in his tone. "But how do you know that you're becoming a good person. Were you a bad person before?"  
  
"I--" Sehun stares into his wine glass, watching the red swish as his hand shakes. He's suddenly feeling a lot less brave, knowing that Minseok is about to shoot him down, tell him something more accurate. And yet that might also make him this better person he strives to be. "I don't know."  
  
"If you are unaware of whether or not you were a bad person before," Minseok starts, and Sehun cringes away, feels scolded, young. And he  _is_  young but he's also not. "How could you know if you were a good person?"  
  
"One does not need to be bad to become better," Sehun snaps. He's angry and he doesn't even know why, feels irritated at Minseok's tone, at the way he looks at Sehun from the other chair.  
  
"So you could be already good, but you're becoming better," Minseok states, and something about his voice changes, quiets. "You cannot become good unless you are bad. Therefore you already were good, and now you are just better."  
  
"And if I was bad?" Sehun asks, downs his wine, silently wishes for another. "You said so yourself, that I lacked manners when I arrived."  
  
"A lack of manners does not represent villainy," Minseok says with a laugh. It's light, floating above them as it disappears and it causes Sehun's anger to flare again for reasons he does not understand. "Youth, in itself is deception. You are still young, and your soul is yet to corrupt, to become bitter. This is why I like teaching apprentices young, because you've got a lot yet to learn and you're able to learn it."  
  
"And you're too old to learn?" Sehun wonders, taps his nails against the side of his glass, pleased at the sound it makes.  
  
"I can learn, or I can attempt it," Minseok laughs, husky and muted, fitting the atmosphere that surrounds the study room, peaceful, reserved despite the turmoil that Sehun feels. "I cannot change a lot of the things instilled in me in my youth though. When you're young and ripe for molding things stay with you and its nearly impossible to shake them off."  
  
"And do you think I'm learning?" Sehun asks meekly, taps his glass again, hears the hollow sound echo. "Do you think you can mold me so that I'll become better and better?"  
  
"I think you're already better," Minseok plucks his own wine glass from the side table, the simple wooden one, before motioning for Sehun's own. "Do you want another? You're anxious."  
  
"You're making me anxious," Sehun murmurs, but he hands over his glass, looks up at Minseok with eyes that probably say too much.  
  
"The conversations we dread most are often the ones that end up being the most important," Minseok says, before sweeping from the room to leave Sehun alone with his thoughts even if for only a fragmented amount of time.  
  
Sehun wonders if he really has become better, unsure now. He knows that he hides himself away, that he avoids and deflects and complains, but he also knows that he sees in Minseok something he has yet to see in someone else; acceptance.  
  
The first turning point had been when Minseok had barely batted an eyelash at Sehun's love of female clothes, had not judged him for any strange habit, any quirk that arises. He had not judged Sehun for his distrust of people or the arts.  
  
Instead he has guided him, carefully, slowly, through his actions and his words, alerting Sehun's subconsciousness to the ways of which it should be. Sehun struggles to think of a word for what Minseok is, but he's sure he'll come across it in their philosophy learnings, in the many books he has acquired, the ones that sit stacked neatly by the window.  
  
Sehun's head feels woozy when Minseok arrives back into the study with glasses of red wine, filled to the brim, glistening in the light of the window sill candles. Sehun wonders if he can handle another glass, but being stubborn he takes it anyways -- one cannot give up good wine -- and downs half in one gulp.  
  
He's always drunk things quickly when nervous, felt the liquid burn down his throat as a distraction, a momentary give to the harsh tug of reality. Sehun nearly trips when he finishes, drinking in silence as Minseok stares first out the window and then st Sehun; his faovurite hobby, Sehun thinks.  
  
"You're drunk," Minseok tells him, and his fingers are laced with Sehun's, leading him as gracefully down the hallway as one can lead someone tipsy off of too much wine.  
  
"My apologies master," Sehun slurs, and he really is sorry, prying his hand from Minseok's grip and cowering slightly. He remembers when he'd had too much ale and his father had scolded him, glared at his mother for allowing such a child to be raised in his absence.  
  
Though really, how can one scold on raising children when they should be present to do so?  
  
"There's nothing to apologize for," Minseok says close to his ear, takes Sehun;s hand once again, letting Sehun lean into his side for support. "You can get as drunk as you want under my roof as long as nothing breaks."  
  
"And what if what breaks is me?" Sehun says cryptically, an answer too late while tucked into bed, Minseok hovering over him with a glass of water, fresh from the well outside. Sehun would normally wonder how he acquired in the dark of the night, but his mind is wonderfully hazy, making out the blurred lines of Minseok's beautiful face in the dark glow of the moon.  
  
"And why would you break?" Minseok asks gently, voice almost tender as he sits at the edge of the bed, strokes fingers through Sehun's hair.  
  
Sehun hopes he remembers the feel of them when he's no longer drunk.  
  
"Do you ever wish for something completely unattainable?" Sehun asks, and he's speaking to the ceiling more than he is to Minseok, speaking to himself. "Something that you know could belong to you but it never will?"  
  
"Everyone has those wishes," Minseok assures him, and his voice sounds like a soothing promise. "But I know yours is attainable."  
  
"And how do you know this master?" Sehun mumbles, and he's dozing off, alcohol muddled brain slowing down, calming with each stroke of Minseok's fingers.  
  
"Because I know what it is," Minseok says simply, just as Sehun slips from consciousness, misses the second part of Minseok's statement.  
  
"It wants you too."  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
  
Lu Han stays with them, as per Sehun's request. They heave a cot from the spare barracks into a corner of their sparse living quarters.  
  
"I wish we could give you more," Sehun tells Lu Han as Minseok hovers awkwardly. After their initial meeting, Minseok had crawled back into the shadows as the calm and shy man he is, had let Sehun take the lead in making Lu Han comfortable in their colony, in giving a place to feel at home.  
  
"I don't need more," Lu Han says in his soft, steady voice. His gaze keeps flicking, from Sehun to Minseok, not in an anxious way, but in a curious way. "This is more than anyone has bothered doing, and anything is better than where I came from."  
  
"Did you have a colony?" Minseok asks when Lu Han is settled, cross legged on his cot with a clay bowl in his hands, filled with mush made from herbs and the tiny things that still grow in the darkness. "Before the tribe took you?"  
  
Lu Han nods, and he looks down at his food. There's a flash of concern on Sehun's face, and Minseok can see the internal struggle that occurs. Sehun's never been one for taking care of others, always the one taken care  _of_ ; this is Minseok's place to step in, if he so wishes.  
  
"We'll do our best," He says, puts a comforting hand on Lu Han's shoulder and smiles warmly when Lu Han doesn't flinch away, when he looks up with a kind of teary gaze, one that makes him look tender, delicate. "We'll do our best to make you feel at home."  
  
"I am happy just to have something to sleep on that is not a rock," Lu Han says with honesty in his tone, pats the lumpy cot tenderly, beams. "Even if saving me was because of someone else you love, I am forever grateful to you."  
  
Lu Han's accent is strong, and Minseok wonders if he's even from the Hatharat region at all, if he's from somewhere foreign, unknown; he won't push though, not yet when Lu Han is still recovering, weak and tired.  
  
"You should rest once you're done eating," Minseok looks pointedly at Sehun, eyes sharp. "You should rest too, both of you."  
  
"Have you been working long?" Lu Han asks Sehun, and his eyes are alight with curiosity, with a muted wonder that has Minseok grinning if only slightly.  
  
Sehun nods, and his own shyness emerges, a blush rising to his cheeks. "I've been up since the early hours," He admits, and he looks to Minseok, for guidance, for order. "I'll take my rest now."  
  
"I'll join you soon," Minseok addresses Sehun, kisses him chastely, softly before he settles himself down onto a seat carved from the stump of a tree. Near Lu Han, but not too close, not wanting to impose, to worry.  
  
"Sehun's creating a haven for us," Minseok explains to Lu Han, explains why Sehun is so valuable, though he does not yet know how this other tribe came to hear of him. Perhaps they'd gotten it out of the colony members that had been harmed, passed on to their Kal-Hath. "He's a genius, knows how to create science miracles out of nothing."  
  
"The tribe leader said that he could make the sun shine again," Lu Han says, and he's finished his food quite quickly, is holding the bowl the way a scared child would, tentatively glancing around. Minseok reaches out instinctively, takes it from him and places it carefully on the ground next to him.  _don't worry_ his eyes say. Lu Han nods.  
  
"There's an artificial light source," Minseok says in agreement, remembering how brightly it had shone when Sehun had dragged him to utopia, had beamed, radiant as he'd shown Minseok his creation, his baby. "I have no idea how anything works there, but they're working on brightening it, seeing if it can light up enough for the entire colony."  
  
"Your child is lucky," Lu Han comments, and Minseok stares at the way he sits, legs perfectly crossed, hands in his lap, upturned as if to show they do not conceal anything. His back is straight and he looks directly at Minseok, never losing eye contact, except for the moments when he breaks away to look around the room in muted awe.  
  
"How so?" Minseok asks, surprised. He's always thought of himself as the lucky one, to be blessed with the knowledge of their future child.  
  
"They'll be born to wondrous parents," Lu Han says breathlessly, and he's smiling wide, glowing despite his thinness, the sickness that hollow his cheeks. "You're both so brave."  
  
"I am not much of anything," Minseok admits sheepishly, covering his face with a sweater clad hand in embarrassment. "I mostly just sit around."  
  
"You saved my life," Lu Han blinks, as if it should be obvious, as if Minseok is some incredible hero, the colonies courageous soul. "You followed the tribe and you alerted others, when you could have just waited it out, slunk home and hid."  
  
"I did what I thought was right," Minseok murmurs self consciously, but he's smiling with his teeth, flicking his tongue out to lick at his lips, suddenly dry. He doesn't know why Lu Han is causing him to become so flustered, why his heart thumps in confusion in a way that it doesn't with Sehun; nothing more and nothing less, just different.  
  
"You should do it more often then," Lu Han says enthusiastically, and he looks like he might continue, might praise, ask questions, but a yawn interrupts his next words before they fully form. "I apologize," Lu Han says, and only now does his posture change, weaken as he unfolds his legs, looks meek. "Is it okay if I rest now?"  
  
"You don't have to ask," Minseok says gently, and he's rising to his feet, bowing to Lu Han. "I wish you a good night. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything."  
  
Lu Han is silent, but he nods once, blinks once, stares at the wall with something heavier than fatigue. Minseok retreats, shuffles from the room anxiously, worried.  
  
He nearly misses the soft "thank you" called out to him.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
"You're blooming."  
  
Sehun blinks sleepily, looks up at Minseok quizzically from where she's resting her head in Minseok's lap. She feels content, like a kitten that nuzzles in its owners bosom and purrs, happily, always.  
  
"What?" Sehun asks intelligently, nearly asleep and not quite alert enough for Minseok's strange choice of words.  
  
"My little flower," Minseok coos, and she pokes at Sehun's cheek, pulls one of her hands towards her to stroke lightly across her fingers. "You're blooming. Like every brave plant in the Spring."  
  
"I'm not a plant," Sehun pouts, and she really does nuzzle Minseok, resists the urge to jokingly try to purr. "I'm a human being."  
  
"You are my flower," Minseok says seriously, gaze heavy, nearly too much.  
  
"You're strange," Sehun mumbles, closing her eyes and attempting to go back to sleep. It's been a long day, school, Baekhyun, and all she wants is to settle down, sleep for a long while, until tomorrow.  
  
"To be normal, is to be boring," Minseok replies calmly, and she hasn't stopped playing with Sehun's fingers, is humming along to a Tiffany song that plays quietly on the radio. She's invited Sehun to stay over, nestled her into her many pillows, fleece blankets, told her to sleep,  _brave, brave little flower._  
  
It's hard to believe that Minseok is only a year older than her, hard to believe that Sehun isn't really a tiny flower, guided by a presence like Minseok, saved by a presence like Minseok.  
  
"You're squishy," Sehun says, and she cracks an eye open slightly, grins at Minseok. "I'm going to make a home on your lap."  
  
"I need to sleep too," Minseok protests, and just like that the moment is ruined, Sehun finding herself roughly pushed off and lying on her side. The playful grin stays on her features, almost flirtatious though, and Minseok rises to the bait, pokes her cheeks again, laughs when Sehun growls, pretends to bite her.  
  
"Is my little flower becoming a Venus flytrap?" Minseok asks, smiling impishly as she pulls a blanket over top them, lets out a cute yawn. "You should sleep."  
  
"I should sleep," Sehun agrees, closing her eyes once more, curling up like a small child, happy, content. She feels safe with Minseok, feels like she can achieve anything, reach for the stars and get the dream back that she wants.  
  
Minseok makes her feel like she could make her Mother proud, like she could wake up every morning ready to go to school unbothered, unhindered, happily dancing through her lessons and into Minseok's arms.  
  
"You might already be my best friend," Sehun says somberly, propping herself up on one elbow, enjoying the softness of her hair as it falls across her shoulder.  
  
"Am I now?" Minseok asks, and the impish smile hasn't left, golden ringlets still perfect, staying in place as she shifts, joins Sehun on one elbow. "And why is this?"  
  
"I've never really had anyone invest so much in me so fast," Sehun confesses quietly, apprehensively. She still fears Minseok's rejection, still fears explaining why she's broken, why no one in their time and age could possibly accept her properly, even Minseok.  
  
"You deserve it," Minseok tells her, and she's flopping back down, reaching between to take Sehun's hand, kissing the back of it gingerly as one does to royalty. "My little flower who will bloom into the world's prettiest princess, to thrive at the top of the food chain."  
  
"Do you think I'll become something?" Sehun asks then. She's settled back down too, but she's wide awake now, mind buzzing with thoughts, feeling, and indistinguishable emotion.  
  
"Of course," Minseok hums, and the look she gives Sehun is sincere, full of affection. "Anyone can become something if they try hard enough."  
  
"I want to fly," Sehun says, and it sounds silly when she says it, but her mind is filled with images, things that have yet to happen, a future that is not yet set in stone. "I feel like I'm meant to fly."  
  
"Then fly," Minseok whispers, and she kisses the tips of Sehun's fingers. "Sleep first."

 

  
  
_i want to fly, an apprentice tells his master, looking across a river of stars. i want to fly and find the furthest edges of our earth and turn them into dreams_    
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
  
Sehun runs into Jongdae first, eyes wide and face betraying more emotion than he's used to.  
  
"Are you okay?" Jongdae asks, and he's looking behind Sehun nervously, as if the problem is chasing Sehun down from the surface. "I'm just going home now, what happened?"  
  
"My Father plans to drop nuclear bombs," Sehun says in a hushed voice, not sure how much panic this could cause. Jongdae's face drains of all colour, eyes flicking from Sehun's face to the walls, to the floor, back to Sehun.  
  
"Come with me," Jongdae says quietly, and he's dragging Sehun through the tunnels towards Section 3. "You can tell Minseok everything that happened and we can devise a quicker plan. No panicking."  
  
"He just said  _soon_ ," Sehun stammers, and he's too busy freaking out to notice Minseok pausing outside his room, eyes worried, curious. "What if we don't have time?"  
  
"We'll have time," Jongdae says reassuringly, pats Sehun on the back awkwardly and steers him into Minseok's room, smile tight, fake, eyes betraying the seriousness of the situation. Minseok follows behind quietly, and he's still eyeing them with concern, silently sitting on the cot in the room, head tilted.  
  
It's cute, but Sehun doesn't have the tie for these thoughts, launching into the details of what he and his Father had spoken about, and what he fears for the Syndicate. Minseok must see his growing anxiety because he beckons Sehun to sit next to him, puts a calming hand on his shoulder, speaks with a serenity and steadiness neither Jongdae or him have right now.  
  
"We still have the upper hand," Minseok says in a composed voice, and Sehun is momentarily distracted by how honey smooth it is, by the heat of Minseok's skin through the thin material of his shirt. It sends a sharp jab of confusion through Sehun, has him blinking before focusing again, feeling faint, tired.  
  
"How fast can we complete the devices?" Jongdae asks, most likely mentally calculating, internal clock on overdrive.  
  
"I'd say two weeks at the earliest," Minseok answers, and he too sounds wary, hint of shaky apprehension present in his words. "But like I said. We have the upper hand. Sehun's Father obviously doesn't believe that Sehun is the spy, and so his investigation will be nearly impossible to complete.  
  
"I should lie low for a bit," Sehun says in a low voice, quiet and a little bit frightened. He's Oh Sehun, not afraid to look down, not afraid to stand up to the Sky and help those below, help those that his Mother had fallen in love with.  
  
Right now though, right now he's just Oh Sehun, terrified twenty-year old, ready to shake, cry, fall to his knees in front of the Alliance council and bid his farewell to the Syndicate.  
  
"That would be best," Minseok agrees, and he still sounds calm, collected,  _okay._  "Though I do want to talk to you privately about some things."  
  
Jongdae raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look offended, clapping Sehun on the shoulder and bowing to Minseok before taking his leave. Sehun can hear him talking loudly even when they can no longer hear him, shrill voice carrying.  
  
He's instructing the weaponry crew to work faster, only sounding slightly in a panic.  
  
"I just wanted to say," Minseok starts slowly, and there's something heavy about his voice, a heaviness that Sehun hasn't heard from anyone else but recognizes where it's going, what it means. "That if you do need to hide, even you don't keep contact with us, you can stay here you know, distractions."  
  
Minseok pointedly looks him up and him, curls his fingers around Sehun's shoulder, strokes. And it  _does_  something to Sehun, like a promise that his soul wants to keep, above the planes of his demi-core.  
  
"I'm demisexual," Sehun says quickly, and he doesn't want to reject this, wants to give in to the one tie his body seems to agree before his heart. "I-- I want to but I need to wait until I'm ready."  
  
"I understand," Minseok says gently, and there's nothing condescending about his response, nothing complicated in the way he smiles at Sehun. He doesn't seem offended, doesn't seem to want to shy away from Sehun and his strange sexuality. "The offer still stands. You can come hide and I'll distract you, just not in that way."  
  
"Thank you," Sehun mutters, and he dips his head, feels the anxiety bubble up to his surface, hands shivering, fingers twitching. "I think I'll go now though. I don't want to be away from my villa for too long." He looks at Minseok with a kind of gratefulness, or at least he hopes he's portraying that. "Lu Han knows you now, though. He may expect to meet you again, as one of my friends."  
  
"I can come to the surface then," Minseok says, nodding in understanding, smile still there, gentle and concerned and aimed at Sehun. It makes him feels warm, and that pulse of something akin to attraction is there, intimidation gone. "He doesn't seem that threatening for an Alliance personnel."  
  
"Ah," Sehun responds, and it's a nervous kind of noise, but also something else. "Lu Han is perhaps the most threatening of all the Alliance leaders aside from my Father."  
  
"How so?" MInseok asks, eyes widening a fractional amount, mouth a tiny pout of confusion. He looks cute like this, looks nothing like a strong, intimidating, rebellion, though the flex of his muscles when he shifts, the brief site of dusty nipple through the arm holes of his shirt prove that he is. "He looks so ... fluffy."  
  
"He's the intelligence leader," Sehun says, exhaling shakily. "He's smart. He can find clues, read people. He'll probably lead the investigation."  
  
"So it's smart to have me be around sometimes and not just that one time friend?"  
  
"Exactly," Sehun says with a fervent nod, but he looks rattled on, ready to leap to his feet and run.  
  
"Go to your villa," Minseok prods, lightly pushing Sehun from his quarters. "Rest. I'll come up and see you. I still have the clothes you gave me so it should look like I was simply coming knocking for a visit if anyone sees me."  
  
"Okay," Sehun says, and he sounds desperate, tongue constantly swiping across his lips. "Thank you. I hope the bombs will be finished on time."  
  
"My people are very good at what they do," Minseok assures him, and he looks stony faced, serious and sullen. "I believe in them, and you should too."  
  
Sehun vows to try.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"Do you think it's possible," Sehun asks while he sits next to Minseok on a piano bench that is far too small, with Minseok's bare thighs touching his. "Do you think it's possible to be both a boy and a girl?"  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Minseok asks, and his fingers pause along the keys, a haunting stop to what was a beautiful piece. Sehun regrets interrupting, wants to hear more, wants to shut his mouth and feel the regret of his question seep through sad music.  
  
"I know that one is born with different parts, but who was it that dictated boy and girl?" Sehun isn't sure he's making sense, but he tries anyways, turns slightly towards Minseok on the bench and regrets at the feel of skin against skin; it's hot today, and they're both clad in shorter trousers, not caring for going outdoors. "With clothing and actions, when all that separate the two are pregnancy and genitalia."  
  
"Does this have to do with your corsets and undergarments?" Minseok asks, and its not accusatory, not harsh or judgmental, not the recoil that many a person would do, just a question, mild curiosity.  
  
"Yes," Sehun murmurs softly, and he suddenly wants to slink away, wants to end the conversation, say he's sick, go to bed. He nearly does, but a soft touch on his arm stops him, Minseok gently tugging Sehun's jaw upward, forcing him to look directly at his master.  
  
"I don't mind," Minseok tells him, and the sincerity in his voice, the thinly veiled affection has Sehun's breath hitching noticeably. "I think you're very brave for daring to do something so against what society pounds into the hearts and opinions of most."  
  
"Who's to say it's bad?" Minseok asks, and he's not asking Sehun, but the very air around them, "Who's to say a piece of cloth created with different stitching and put on the body society says it's not meant for, is bad? And yet it's more than just the cloth for you, is it not?"  
  
"It is," Sehun says, and his voice seems barely a whisper, so quiet that the rustle of wind outside the closed window seems louder. "I feel some days like I'm not a boy at all, and some days I do, and I'm more boy than girl and some days, sometimes I'm neither and I'm just me."  
  
"And what tells you this? A feeling or a need?"  
  
"Aren't feelings needs?" Sehun asks, puzzled. "It's just something I  _know._  Something right and fitting and perhaps I'm the wrong thing in all of this world but I know i feel all that more beautiful as a person when I'm dressed as a woman."  
  
"And I believe you're beautiful no matter what," Minseok says, breathes, so close to Sehun, and that in itself is another sin, that in itself is another thing forbidden, wrong, terrible. "This is much like the debate on homosexuality," Minseok continues as if reading Sehun's thoughts, as if the panic in Sehun's eyes translates as his very heart. "I believe it all stems down to the basic human fear of what is different."  
  
"How do you feel about homosexuality?" Sehun asks, chances, worries, shakes so hard he's sure Minseok feels it.  
  
"I have no need for women," Minseok says simply, shocking Sehun into going completely still, breath no longer hitching but held completely as he waits for a continuation. "I of course, am quiet about this and don't let it to the public. But I can trust you, since you've entrusted yourself with me."  
  
"I like people," Sehun says, and he's not entirely sure how to word this, not entirely sure how to lay himself bare for Minseok to understand. "I don't care what they are, I just know that people are beautiful and I can love each and every one."  
  
"Fate is interesting, is it not?" Is all Minseok says in reply, and Sehun is left stilling further, eyes not leaving Minseok's as they sit, too close.  
  
"What do you mean?" Sehun frowns, shifts slightly, swallows his anxiety whole.  
  
"I'm not sure what I mean," Minseok laughs, and he's broken the tense atmosphere, broken the fears and the worries with one twinkling sound. "But it's curious, is it not, how those on the outside, no matter how far, still manage to meet each other."  
  
"Like a predestined happening," Sehun says, and it's his turn to sound breathless, to say the words in a rush, nervous, heart pounding.  
  
"Are we a predestined happening, my student?" Minseok asks, and he's teasing, but Sehun's heart still sinks, as if just remembering that Minseok is unattainable, as unattainable as his Mother's acceptance, and the countries acceptance. As unattainable as Sehun's future.  
  
"You're the one who needs to tell me that, master," Sehun says, and his tone is formal, not quite clipped but not airy, finality sorrowfully making its way to their discussion.  
  
"I think we are," Minseok says, but then there's nothing more, just the return of Minseok playing the piece, picking up exactly where he's left out, the silent command for Sehun to focus, to watch.  
  
Sehun feels just like a boy at this point, a small one, scared and weak.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
  
Lu Han adjusts quite well, though he's shy, sticking to Minseok's side --  _clinging_  to Minseok -- while Sehun is away, though the second Sehun returns from utopia Lu Han is all over him too, asking questions, curious about utopia.  
  
It makes Sehun happy, to speak, to explain to someone so enraptured and so interested; It's something he cannot do properly with Minseok, who doesn't care for the science, for  _how_  utopia is made.  
  
It's a comfort, really. Minseok feels less lonely during the days, feels whole when they're all three together, as if he finally has more than one person to share himself with -- though Lu Han is different than Sehun -- and Minseok finds himself smiling more, spending more time outside in the dark, not hidden away by himself or away on walks.  
  
Lu Han is skittish though, excuses himself purposely to give Sehun and Minseok their alone time, is afraid to leave the colony gates, to speak freely with those that aren't the two he lives with.  
  
Minseok hopes that he'll break from his shell eventually, worries and frets and concerns when Lu Han recoils from another's friendly touch, words.  
  
"You shouldn't worry so much," Lu Han tells him, and he's reaching forward, massaging Miseok's temples, his shoulders, quiet voice the same as his soft hands. And Minseok lets him, indulges Lu Han's needs, wants; all with Sehun's permission of course, and Sehun too indulges both of them.  
  
"Minseok takes care of you," Sehun tells Lu Han with a smile filled with affection as he lies on his side on their battered and old sofa. "And then you take care of me, and Minseok takes care of both of us."  
  
"You're not my children," Minseok pouts from the kitchen, and yet it's true; Minseok is good at taking care of people, good at feeding them love, protection. And yet he hasn't said it out loud, but Sehun takes care of him too, settles his heart when it beats too out of place, holds his hands when Minseok is silently sad, not quite up for speaking, the lack of a proper world weighing down on them all.  
  
"I'm your baby," Sehun says firmly, laughing at the way Lu Han squirms -- he knows what kind of baby Sehun is -- and Minseok is laughing too, at both of them as he places hot bowls of porridge on the floor, as they sit around like some kind of strange family for dinner.  
  
And after dinner, once they’ve excused themselves to their room, once Lu Han is nestled into his cot, and Minseok is kissing his way down Sehun's body, they're quiet. Respectful of the ears in the other room, not wanting to upset, to scar, to drive out.  
  
Minseok ignores the tiny bead of emotion, of attractions that stirs in his stomach.  
  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg ; Year 2013**  
  
  
Not having Sehun around is strange.  
  
Minseok has never been one to feel especially lonely -- has always been content to be with himself, -- but having someone around all the time and then suddenly gone is taking it's toll. He finds himself bored, irritated, not used to having no one to turn to to make comments, no one to cling to his side during movies.  
  
Minseok accidentally cooks for two the first few days, grumbling at his growing pile of leftovers in the fridge, amazed that's he's even still cooking; he'd put in so much effort for his Sehun, had made his trip the best, and Minseok feels kind of empty without nothing to put that effort into.  
  
  
  
To: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **I accidentally made you food again :(**  
  
From: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **Send some to Korea... I'm sick of take out food.**  
  
To: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **I wish I could...**  
  
From: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **Hyung, you're not the sappy sad one in this relationship. Don't make me worry.. ><;;;**  
  
To: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **You spelled "Oppa" wrong.**  
  
From: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **(⊙** **﹏** **⊙** **✿** **)**  
  
From: ❣ Baby Hun ❣:  **....** **오빠** **?**  
  
To: ❣ Baby Hun: ❣:  **That's my boy. :)**  
  
  
  
Later, while Minseok lies in bed, he debates staying up ridiculously late just so Sehun can wake up to Minseok being available, ready to talk. He sends him some photos, cute ones of him pouting, half naked ones, a random of a kitten.  
  
What they have, it's beautiful, and though Minseok feels kind of lost, he's happy that he has Sehun, that they can persevere, continue like they always have been and wait until the next time they can see each other properly again.  
  
Which shouldn't even be that long -- 5 months at the most -- and it's nowhere near as long as the time they'd known each other before Sehun had walked off his plane and into arms. And Minseok isn't a pining person, isn't someone to roll around, to whine and cry and miss.  
  
That's Sehun.  
  
Sehun is clingy, needy, whiny, overly affectionate and  _wonderful._  Minseok would mind it with someone else -- he's sure of this -- but with Sehun, he doesn't. With Sehun he craves the clinginess, craves the constant communication and the constant reassurances.  
  
With Sehun, Minseok is okay with the anxiety, the unsure way in which Sehun approaches everything, approaches him. No, he's not okay with it, because he loves Sehun and therefore loves every part of him, his insecurities included.  
  
Minseok falls asleep before Sehun wakes up, but halfway across the world, Sehun is laughing, typing back, taking a selfie of his own.  


 

 

 

 

 

  
_"Don't be afraid your life will end. Be afraid that it will never begin."_

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
"Can I meet your Mom?" Minseok asks Sehun randomly as they're sitting in the school library, books closed and work not being done. They're always in the library, just to talk quietly, to know each other well.  
  
"Why?" Sehun asks shyly, frowning at Minseok across their table. She's not ashamed, never ashamed of where she comes from, of her beautiful Mother, but the question is unexpected.  
  
"You've been to my temporary place a bunch of times," Minseok pouts, reaching across the table to poke at Sehun's hand playfully. "I want to see yours."  
  
"Okay," Sehun says with a slow smile, the one that makes Minseok grin at her and call her a blooming flower. "But you can't dress as nice like that on the Subway. You'll get mugged."  
  
"Silly," Minseok says with a wave of her hand, and it's then that Sehun remembers (she always does, but sometimes it's hard) that Minseok has wealth, lives a different live than she does. "We can just drive."  
  
"I didn't think of that," Sehun says with blushing cheeks. She's always blushing around Minseok, always nervous; it's not in a bad way, but in the way that Minseok is so straight forward, so  _Minseok._  
  
"It's okay flower," Minseok teases, and she's biting the end of her pen, staring behind her out the window, eyes glittering with a kind of mischief. "What do you say we skip the afternoon of class and go shopping. Then I can call a driver and we can go cook your Mother a nice dinner."  
  
"You want to cook for my Mom?" Sehun blinks, stares at Minseok in disbelief. Skipping class doesn't bother her; she's ahead, anyways, but Minseok is always surprising her, always shocking her into some kind of emotion.  
  
"I want us to cook for your Mom," Minseok says with a soft smile, and Sehun is reminded of an older sister -- still not romantic, but still more than a friend. Perhaps sister isn't even enough to describe the feelings Sehun has. "You're always speaking of her so proudly. I think she could use something nice."  
  
"I don't understand you," Sehun says and she doesn't, but she understands gratefulness, understands what it means to feel it. She's still sometimes on edge around Minseok -- worried, shy, scared, confused -- but she's always grateful, always learning.  
  
"You don't need to," Minseok says with a laugh, before pulling her out of the library and down the street. "I'm going to buy you a gift too. How do you feel about dream catchers?"

 

  
  
  
_the dream catcher hangs above where Sehun's head usually is. he's not there, forgotten it, gone across a multitude of things_    
  
  


 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, UNIT0420**  
  
  
The thing about one-sided love is that it's not always sad.  
  
It's not always some heart wrenching ordeal that leaves someone hanging hopeless, not always the endless pining. Sometimes it's calm, an overwhelming sense of protection, of purpose and of love.  
  
Lu Han knows who the spy is; he's not easy to fool, not easy to be run around by some Sky sector clothing, by Sehun's innocent smile. And Lu Han supposes there's a lot of luck involved here, that  _he's_  the one that found Sehun and his 'friend' walking, that he's the one who saw through the lie, told no one.  
  
Because Lu Han, he does what he does for Sehun, and not for the Alliance. The young child he babysat when he was merely four years older, the older boy that he sat across from at the Oh's dining table, observed and loved.  
  
Lu Han knows it's not his place, sees the soul connection between Sehun and the Syndicate leader, follows them, and thwarts the investigation of the Alliance. As Intelligence lead, as the one sent to find the spy, Lu Han is solely responsible for  _not_  finding the spy.  
  
"I'm yet to find anything," He tells Sehun's Father, holds him off, stalls the operation of the nuclear canons. "Either they're very good, or there is no spy."  
  
"It's not often someone can past the best," Sehun's Father both praises and brings Lu Han down. A compliment and an insult;  _You're the best, but they're better._  
  
And Lu Han would be offended by the insult if he really was blind to who the spy was, but he just bows, exits.  
  
Lu Han, he cares about the Ground dwellers too, is one of the few Alliance leaders to touch foot on the surface, to witness first hand what they've created, what they've destroyed. And while others may be blind to it, Lu Han is one of great compassion, of hidden worry and calm, outer energy.  
  
He shields the Alliance cameras, tweaks and tricks them so that they show the same empty corridors, remembers where the map -- the one Sehun has tucked into his desk -- had circled, places for the Syndicate's crude explosives.  
  
Lu Han is aware that he will most likely be caught in the blast, will most likely be sacrificing himself for something more than just the Ground dweller's salvation. He's resigned to his fate, resigned to the sinking of his heart as he thinks and thinks and thinks.  
  
The dream catcher above his bed grants him some solace, causes him to remember that fate and faith are intertwined. And perhaps Lu Han has broken some kind of string, has been put here by some purpose, but he knows what is right, what is wrong, and he knows Sehun.  
  
His dream catcher falls to the ground during a storm, wood cracking when Lu Han accidentally steps upon it.  
  


 

 

 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
"I'm thinking," Sehun says aloud to no one in particular, leans against the wall where he's seated on the floor, legs splayed in awkward directions. He's got a pen in hand, and paper at his feet, words not yet written but soon to be something.  
  
"Congratulations," Minseok calls sarcastically as he walks into the room, takes a seat across from Sehun. "What are you thinking about?"  
  
"Dreams," Sehun says, coughing as he takes a sip of tea, too scalding for his preferences.  
  
"Your own dreams?" Minseok asks, plucking the tea cup from Sehun's to blow softly on it, cool it for Sehun without being asked, the best master Sehun has ever had.  
  
"Yes," Sehun agrees, and he's watching Minseok's lips pucker as he blows puffs of air out from them, watching the way his eyebrows furrow slightly, his eyes cross themselves in concentration. "There are so many kinds of dreams and we rarely know what any of them actually mean."  
  
"Write about it," Minseok tells him, voice taking on the gentle quality it does when he's trying to tell Sehun something important, something he very much, should do. "That's our next word; dreams."

  
  
_and dreams, they give us everything we could possibly need ; a driving force, momentum, confusion, want. dreams manifest themselves as wishes, as blurry images in a sleeping mind, as soft droplets of rain that you wish could become a hurricane. dreams are complex, and dreams are simple. some are meant for others, to change the world and to sprinkle love down upon it, and some are meant for the eyes of none, or perhaps just one. the dreams in which skin lies naked and feelings are intimate. and some dreams, some dreams are about acceptance, about getting things right, finding that important missing piece of the puzzle that is everything._

  
  
  
And Minseok, he's proud of the piece Sehun writes today, is affectionate, gentle and yet still authoritative, still correcting every slip of Sehun's manners, of his own fingers attempting glide across piano keys, only to get stuck up on the rhythm.  
  
"I want to compose a piano piece one day," Sehun announces, holding the paper on which his dreams lie carefully in his hands, like one holds a delicate flower about to dissolve. "About dreams maybe."  
  
"You and your dreams," Minseok says with a laugh, but he's tucking Sehun's growing hair behind his ear, resting his hand on Sehun's shoulder and looking at him steadily; the stare that Sehun knows well, the  _assessing_  one.  
  
"It's that dream catching thing you've got hung in my window," Sehun insists, and Minseok just laughs, eyes crinkling.  
  
"I'm glad that something that came to me in a dream, can you help you with your dreams," Minseok tells him, and his voice is genuine, caring. He's been a lot more attentive, a lot more forward -- kinder and more person, less master -- since Sehun had admitted to his gender problems, had shown bravery and non-judgement in the face of things that cause both.  
  
Sehun isn't whether he's happy, or more devastated, more caught in the unattainable loop.  
  
"Which one do you like better?" Minseok asks, and he's referring to writing, to piano.  
  
"I like it when they're combined best, I think," Sehun skirts the question, deflection done well. He hopes his master, hopes Minseok approves of his growing conversation skills, of the grips he's getting on the way Minseok likes to prove things, likes to tell him how the world works. "I like writing, and i like playing, but I want to write music too."  
  
"Then write, make your dream come true," Minseok tells him, and it sounds like a command more than a suggestion.  
  
"I will master."  
  
"Good boy."

 

 

╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
"Do you think it's possible to love more than one person at once?" Sehun asks Minseok randomly one evening while they're sitting near a fire. Lu Han is back at their home, sleeping off a long day of being shown how to guide and take care of children; he's learning, adapting, a natural at causing laughter and breaking up fights. "And to have both of them love you back, and each other?"  
  
"It was quite common in Dal-Hatharat," Minseok tells him, and he's startled by the question, startled by someone who doesn't know the familiarity of a polyarmous relationship, but then he remembers that Sehun was born after the fall. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I was just thinking about it while in utopia," Sehun murmurs. "We're hitting a breakthrough you know, we've cloned some animals. But I noticed three of them, piled up on top of each other -- those little mice -- and I thought, 'what if humans loved in triangles too?'"  
  
"We can love in any shape as long as all the sides connect," Minseok says, and he thinks of the girl from his old neighbourhood that had three parents, remembered being jealous when she would get an extra present during Kal-Mas. "And sometimes, they don't need to connect at all, if communication is well and everyone is okay."  
  
"What kind of shape do you like best?" Sehun asks, and he sounds like a child learning for the first time, curious and excited.  
  
"I like triangles," Minseok tells him. "As long as whoever -- or whoevers -- I'm with are happy, I'm happy."  
  
"And if everyone is happy there's no need for guilt?"  
  
"There's never any need for guilt I think." Minseok says firmly. "Unless you've murdered a man. I'd feel slightly guilty about that."  
  
"You know what triangles are good for?" Sehun speaks up a minute of silence later, as if he's been thinking too hard.  
  
"What is that baby?" Minseok says sleepily, from where he's been staring into the flames, dozing.  
  
"An extra person to watch over bratty children."  
  
They both laugh at this, eyes crinkling and sound like bells, though Minseok can't help but think of one person that would fit the description well.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, UNIT0412**  
  
  
"If we all get out of this alive I think I could like you," Sehun tells Minseok over a cup of sweet tea, feeling especially strange today, especially forward.  
  
"I already like you," Minseok says, and Sehun checks for signs of teasing, before remembering that Minseok isn't one to tease feelings. He'd said it, back in the tunnels when Sehun had been hiding at the bottom of the air duct, when he'd been unsure of anyone's feelings.  
  
"Why?" Sehun asks, and he's staring out the window, at the vastness of the sky that never seems to go away, at the rush of emotion that swoops low in his stomach. "We barely know each other."  
  
Minseok shrugs, glances to where Sehun is looking with a tiny smirk on his lips. "I decide things quite quickly," Is all he says, before his features grow stony again. "I'm very serious about my pursuits."  
  
"I can't change my orientation to speed up for you," Sehun says sadly, and he feels guilty, looks down. He shouldn't be thinking about this, discussing this when they have explosives under the city, secrets in hiding, when they come from opposite worlds. It's too soon too much too--  
  
"You don't need to," Minseok says. "I'll wait."  
  
"Is this a movie?" Sehun says and his laugh his hollow, the forced one that he uses with his father, the one he doesn't like.  
  
"It could be," Minseok says solemnly, and he turns to stare dramatically out the window. Sehun stares dramatically at his jawline. "With the ridiculousness of a city in the sky, the rebellion, our lives. It's like a film from the ancient times."  
  
"I wonder what life was like in the 2000's," Sehun wonders out loud. "It was so primitive, even more so then the Ground is forced through."  
  
"They had clean air though," Minseok says with a sigh, and he's putting his cup down, giving Sehun a heavy look. "They had clean air and there was oppression but not like this."  
  
"I'm sorry," Sehun says quietly, looking down at his own cup in shame, guilt.  
  
"It's fine," Minseok says gently. "You're one of the good ones. Look at what you've done for people you've been raised to hate."  
  
"My Mother," Sehun starts, but he cuts himself off, drowns in his own guilt, emotion for a second. Minseok waits. "My Mother, she went down to the surface."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Observation," Sehun says sullenly. "She was the Intelligence leader. She went down to read the conditions, to update on the Syndicate's hold on the Ground."  
  
"And what did she find?" Minseok asks, and Sehun can tell he's unsure of where this is going, can see both concern and curiosity in his complicated eyes.  
  
"She found someone to have an affair with," Sehun says simply, steady and straightforward despite the feelings milling behind him. "She fell in love with someone from the Ground and she was banished from the Sky by my own Father."  
  
"Is that why you're helping the Syndicate," Minseok asks with wide eyes. He hasn't reacted emotionally to Sehun's story, but he looks intense, mouth parted.  
  
"Partially," Sehun nods. "But also because I have a conscience."  
  
"I'm glad you do," Minseok says, and he leans back, smiles. "This is why I already like you."  
  
"Are you sure you aren't just shallow?" Sehun asks, reacting to the fast shift in gears fairly quickly.  
  
"I could be," Minseok admits, and his eyes rake over Sehun's body. Everything seems calm, too calm for the brink of what could be a possible war, too calm for someone who leads an organization for the destruction of an entire group of people.  
  
"But you're not," Sehun blurts out, and he's surprised with the conviction in his voice, the surety in which he says it. "I don't think you are at all. And it's not that I don't already like you too. That's what's confusing me."  
  
Minseok stays silent, just surveys Sehun quietly, as if he's assessing him, waiting.  
  
"My emotions, my body, they have never reacted that quickly," Sehun says truthfully. "The second you threatened me in the tunnels, it was like some predestined fate had leapt from your weapon into my heart."  
  
"Poetic," Minseok muses, fingers tapping on the surface of the table distractedly.  
  
"I'm being serious," Sehun says, and he looks offended pouts. "Its like a higher power has been at work."  
  
"I'm not religious," Minseok deadpans, and Sehun wonders if he was at one point, if the Gods he'd prayed too had never answered for the sake of his people.  
  
"There's more at work in our universe than those higher powers associated with religion," Sehun says, and as the images he's seen in many dreams, the piano melody that he doesn't know and yet does with all his heart flood his mind, he believes it.  


 

 

 

 

 

  
_Who is more foolish, the child afraid of the dark or the man afraid of the light? ~Maurice Freehill_

 

 

 

  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
Sehun's mother is beaming, chatting amiably with Minseok in the kitchen as she cooks; she's insisted on helping, won't let Minseok cook herself. And Minseok agrees happily, laughs and is overall the angel she is.  
  
Sehun just watches quietly from the kitchen table, fiddles with the tie of her school uniform, scratches her fingers along the edges of the box in front of her.  
  
A dream catcher kit they'd found shopping on 24th Street. Sehun has never made one before, never owned one, but Minseok is a big believer in the art of dreams, has gifted Sehun her philosophy book to go along with it.  
  
"We'll make it after dinner," She'd said cheerfully, had stared at Sehun with large, loving eyes before kissing her cheek. Sehun had been weirdly okay with it, happy with the contact. And it's like that with Minseok, she's not as resilient, not as good at pushing her away, at fighting her affections.  
  
And Sehun isn't surprised really, that her Mother is smiling so much, fawning over the adorable girl that Minseok is; pinching her cheek, ruffling her hair, admiring her ringlets and cheering her on, telling her she'll get that role she'd auditioned for, the one in LA.  
  
(Sehun doesn't want Minseok to go to LA.)  
  
Sehun is becoming affectionate too, clingy even. And she's always been like that with close friends -- was like that before she stopped having them -- so she can't help it really. Can't help the way she  _pines_  when Minseok isn't around, pines when she's up late and no one answers after the third ring.  
  
It's not romantic though, it's still not anything and yet still more. And Minseok is trying to find words for what Sehun is. "There's nothing wrong with not feeling romantic things, for not being attracted to anyone," She'd said soothingly when Sehun had started crying from frustration, from anger, from being  _broken._  "You're just different and that's okay."  
  
Sehun can't help but wonder if different is okay. Or is different is wrong and she's just being told it's okay.  
  
"Dinner's ready," Minseok bellows, too loud, curled hair bouncing as she skips to the kitchen table, places food in front of Sehun -- chicken, rice, some kind of eclairs. It's fancier than she's used to, and yet it's beautiful, to see the smile on her Mother's face as she eats happily.  
  
Minseok sits next to Sehun, whispers in her ear about the dream catcher, and Sehun tries her best not to blush at the contact. She's not sure how her Mother would react to  _that_  kind of daughter when Sehun's already working so hard to make her proud.  
  
They make the dream catcher messily, both of them not knowing what they're doing, what they  _should_  be doing. Cutting string becomes fits of laughter, weaving pipe cleaners becomes sing-a-longs to pop music on Sehun's tiny clock radio.  
  
When it's completed, Minseok tells her to hang it by the window. "A dream catcher works best where it can take in the energy of the moon," Minseok explains. "People dream more while looking at the moon you know."  
  
"The moon is lonely, that's why," Sehun says, and she's staring at it as Minseok changes into the Pyjamas she'd borrowed, clothes that she swims in. It's adorable. "The sun is bright and full of colour and everything people need. Why would you dream about a brighter time when the sun is shining right there?"  
  
"And yet some people could go a lifetime in the light of the sun and never feel its warmth," Minseok says hollowly, and she's twirling the dream catcher, dangling it by two fingers. Sehun watches the way the light of the moon, the dull streetlamps of the street below catch the beads that hang from it, making them glitter.  
  
  
  
_i dream about people sometimes, mainly you.  
and why do you dream about me?  
you're the most beautiful thing to dream about _  
  
  
  
"Do you think dreams are beautiful?" Sehun asks, and she reaches out to bat at one of the beads like a playful kitten, looks down to stare at the way the light catches her long pale legs. She wonders if she could be a model. "Do you think they're beautiful, or do you think they're terrifying?"  
  
"I think they can be both," Minseok says with a bitter kind of smile, a sad one. "That's why dream catchers exist. They're meant to take away the bad ones and only give you the best ones."  
  
"I could audition for a modeling job," Sehun says suddenly, and she's running a hand up her leg, catches the way Minseok stares.  _i can't be that for you i'm sorry_  
  
_its okay_  
  
"School first," Minseok scolds, and she sounds like Sehun's Mother at dinner, telling Minseok not to forget her studies when she becomes famous, when she brings in more wealth than her Step Father.  
  
"Says the girl that wants to run off to LA," Sehun pouts, and her frown is comical, teasing as Minseok hangs up the dream catcher, totters slightly on her chair, hands soft as they grip Sehun's shoulder for traction.  
  
"I'll fly you out for a visit if I get the movie," Minseok says with a grin, and she's settling herself down in Sehun's lap after a small glance to make sure it's okay.  _i never want to upset you in anyway. tell me if its okay, always._  
  
"You won't be gone for too long right?" Sehun asks, and she says a thought that's been on her mind. "If you fall in love with someone, a co-star, I don't know. Don't forget about me."  
  
"How could I forget about you?" Minseok scoffs, poking Sehun's nose gently with her pointer finger, eyes glowing in the near dark, smile radiant and wonderful. "You're my best friend."  
  
"Thank you," Sehun whispers, and she can't help the guilt that courses through her. "I'm sorry I'm so selfish. I just wasn't expecting anyone to accept me at that school, and to accept -- what -- what I am."  
  
"Sehunnie, darling," Minseok whisper-talks, soft voice a melody for calming Sehun's heart. "I will never leave. Not in this lifetime or the next."  
  
_it's kind of proof he's meant to be here, don't you think? we've been together for all our lifetimes and it's like he was here all along._  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Seoul, South Korea ; Year 2013**  
  
  
"Are you touching yourself Sehunnie?" Minseok is speaking low, quiet and it's almost as if he's right next to Sehun, almost as if he's purring directly into his ear, lips touching skin. Except he's not and they're just on the phone, far away, too far away.  
  
"Of c-course," Sehun stutters, gasps, hands wrapped around his erection, struggling to hold the phone to his ear and stroke himself with the other. He can't afford speaker phone, can't let his parents somehow hear what's going on, what he is.  
  
"Good boy," Minseok purrs, husky and deep into the receiver. "Good baby boy. Keep doing. Tell me what you're doing. Don't be too loud though."  
  
"I'm not good at this," Sehun whines, but his hips are lifting off the bed at the touch of his own fingers, at the twist of his wrist on his cock. "Can we-- can we use Skype? I can't do this if I can't see you."  
  
And Sehun doesn't mean it to sound like it does, but he can hear Minseok's breath hitch through the phone, can hear his voice speaking quietly,  _Yes Sehunnie, get your laptop, get the lube._  
  
Minseok looks beautiful through the screen, cock hard and flushed, sitting against his stomach with his fingers gently caressing the tip. He's always had more patience than Sehun, always been able to hold back, to wait until Sehu'ns ready, Sehun's taken care of,  _Sehun._  
  
"What do you want me to do?" Sehun pants when his microphone turns on, when Minseok can see him too, flushed from his chest to up to his neck, shyer, less open about this but still wanting.  
  
"Can you stretch yourself for me?" Minseok asks, breathless, shameless, hands steadily stroking, voice too steady. And Sehun needs it steady, needs Minseok to be calm in ordering him, calm in sex, life.  
  
Sehun nods, uncaps the lube and puts too much on his fingers in his haste, cringing at Minseok's tiny, breathy giggle. But it's more hot than it is humiliating and Sehun inserts the first finger mostly for show; he's already stretched out, already ready from his own thoughts, their texting.  
  
He gasps, whines, tries not to thrash to much when a headphone threatens to fall from his ears, paranoia slithering its way into his aroused veins. "Like this oppa?" Sehun asks, and he grins when he sees Minseok watching him with an open mouth, hand speeding up on his cock.  
  
"Just like Sehunnie baby," Minseok tells him, commands him. "Turn around, I want to see."  
  
"But I want to see you too," Sehun whines, turning and facing away from the camera, ass up in the air -- two fingers now, pumping steadily.  
  
"Next time," Minseok purrs, and Sehun closes his eyes, presses his face into his sheets, imagines Minseok's hands sliding up his sides, his back, imagine Minseok kissing his shoulders, the back of his neck, pulling at his hair.  
  
Sehun moans then, nearly too loud and he can hear Minseok moan too, quieter, wrecked, wonderful. He chances turning back to see, three fingers crooking inside him to make his back arch beautifully (and Sehun knows it's beautiful because Minseok has told him so, has whispered it into his ear).  
  
Minseok is watching, gaze heavy and lips curved into a kind of smirk. He looks close to coming but he's stroking slowly, fingers dancing carefully up and down his shaft, swiping precome across the tip as their eyes meet.  
  
"Keep going, baby." Minseok says and he sounds strained, gasping the words out as Sehun moans, thrashes in his own bed, headphones ripping from his laptop. He hurriedly fixes them, gives up and turns the volume down, moves the computer closer. ''Pretend it's me," Minseok tells him. "Pretend I'm draped across your back, you turning your head to kiss me, nice and slow."  
  
"Fuck me," Sehun moans, and he's collapsing onto the bed, whimpers escaping as he stops himself fro fisting his own cock, knows that Minseok likes to draw things out, make him wait -- the fucking  _tease_. "Please, Minseok oppa,  _fuck me_."  
  
"Not yet," Minseok says in a soothing voice, and Sehun can almost hear it next to him, can almost feel Minseok's breath as it ghosts along his skin, as Minseok kisses his jaw, his lips, tongue slipping inside. "Can you feel me with you? Touching, biting? That mark will stay for a long time you know."  
  
Sehun is hitting his prostate over and over now, legs trembling as he attempts to hold himself up, attempts to watch Minseok jerk himself off; his hand is moving faster now and his head is thrown back, eyes nearly closed but still watching Sehun, still listening to him, commanding him.  
  
"What do you want oppa to do," Minseok says, and it's more a moan, low and husky and deep and  _too much too much_. Sehun wishes Minseok could be right next to him, thrusting into him, slow and deep, or maybe hard and fast.  
  
"Want you to take care of me," Sehun whines, and he can't keep quiet now, can't stop his hand from snaking it's way to his cock, jerking himself quickly, roughly, wanting to come.  
  
"I'll take care of you," Minseok assures him, and it feels too serious for Skype sex, air feeling heavy as Sehun nearly cries, tears forming at the corners of his eyes as he feels himself nearing completion, feels the telltales tremors of orgasm nearly there. "I'll keep fucking you, keep kissing you, oppa will never leave you."  
  
"Can I come?" Sehun gasps, unsure if his words are coherent as his fingers speed up, both inside him and around his cock, hips stuttering and rhythm gone.  
  
"Yes baby," Minseok says, and it's enough to have Sehun's hand speeding up more, fingers digging in and stilling as he comes with a muffled moan, keening and beautiful into the sheets. Sehun collapses, breathing heavily and it's  _good_ it's so good but it's not enough even as he hazily watches Minseok finish, watches him close his eyes and his mouth fall open, blissful, beautiful.  
  
"I want you here," Sehun murmurs, and he sounds sad, whiny even to his own ears. "Want you hear to hold me and cuddle me and wipe me clean."  
  
"Soon," Minseok whispers, and Sehun watches him move his laptop to his bed, watches Minseok crawl under the covers to peek at him over his blankets. "My cute baby Sehunnie."  
  
"I don't like it here," Sehun whispers, and he's crying now, body still trembling from his orgasm and emotions on overdrive. "I want to hop a plane now and just stay there until my school accepts me. I have the money, just let me--"  
  
"You can't angel," Minseok says tenderly, and Sehun knows if they were together he would stroke his hair, kiss him gently with chapped but soft lips, hands soothing at his hips. "You need to be patient. We'll see each other soon, okay?"  
  
"It's all I ever think about," Sehun admits quietly, burying himself in his pillow, nesting in his blankets. He likes to pretend they're next to each other when they Skype like this, close together and yet not.  
  
"Right now you should be thinking of sleep," Minseok whispers, and Sehun knows he's right.  
  
"Goodnight Minseok, I love you."  
  
"I love you too, baby."  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"You've picked up on this quite well," Minseok comments from where he's watching Sehun quietly, assessing what he's learned about the piano. "Not many can begin to compose that well this early."  
  
"Do you like it?" Sehun asks as he stills his playing, looks over to Minseok for the validation he constantly craves, the validation he constantly  _needs_.  
  
"It's pretty," Minseok says honestly, and he hands Sehun a sheet of paper, symbols and numbers written in ink. "I've been writing down the notes as you play so you don't forget them. I hope you've been practicing your reading."  
  
"I have been," Sehun murmurs, holding the paper delicately in his hands as if it could burn. A sense of strange gratitude washes over him. "Thank you master."  
  
"You know," Minseok comments, a kind of playfulness in tone that Sehun doesn't see coming. "You're the only student to actually call me master."  
  
Sehun's eyes widen at this, hands falling from the keys to his lap in a nervous fit of agitation. "Is it not normal?" Sehun asks, fitfully. "It's been expected of me from all my other masters -- teachers -- and I just assumed, especially since you requested high manners and --"  
  
"I never said I didn't like it," Minseok says airily, and he's not bothering to hide the smirk that he throws in Sehun's direction. "So you could continue if you like."  
  
And Sehun is brought back to their conversation, about frills and desires and the taboos of them, and he wonders, just wonders is the unattainable is perhaps attainable after all. "I'll remember that, master," Sehun chances, and he doesn't miss it this time, the way Minseok seems to hold his breath and shift in his spot. Sehun feels hope.  
"My darling student," Minseok says, and his voice is filled with an affection that Sehun often yearns for, needs in his darkest moments.  
  
"The catcher of dreams," Sehun says, and he doesn't know what prompts the thouht but he knows he likes it. "This piece I'm writing, both on paper and on piano. That's what I'll name it."  
  
"After the one that hangs in your room?" Minseok asks, and he looks confused, inquisitive.  
  
"No, not entirely," Sehun says vaguely, though he does not elaborate even when Minseok gives him a pointed look, raises a single eyebrows. Sehun wonders if he ringlet that hangs around his ankle, feminine and alluring.  
  
"Maybe one day you'll tell me," Minseok says, and he sounds wistful, mysterious. "For now, just work on it. Catch the dreams you write about."  
  
"I think they're catching me," Sehun says breathlessly when Minseok's fingers curl around his wrist to take him from the lesson room and out into the market, grip tight and safe.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
The utopia walls start construction partway through Lu Han's second moon cycle with them, and Sehun is away semi permanently, staying overnight at the complex with the others that help create it.  
  
Minseok is momentarily lost without Sehun home everyday, feels lonely even with Lu Han there, feels something missing. He works on the dream catcher, thinks deeply about what he wants to go into it, what thoughts and dreams he has.  
  
They often involve Lu Han now; Lu Han with Sehun's blurry child, Lu Han with them, in bed, Lu Han kissing him slowly and surely while they sit cross legged on the floor while Sehun watches intensely.  
  
And it's never without Sehun, no because Minseok does like triangles and he's used to this feeling, had wondered if he'd ever run into it while with Sehun. Sehun had seemed interested in the idea, had seemed open and wondrous, but Minseok stills feels selfish.  
  
He thinks of the child, and of utopia, swallows down his guilt and completes his device, hangs tiny shining from it's threads, ones that he collected from the heart of a wolves den, somewhere he shouldn't have been.  
  
(Lu Han had scolded him for it, had worried and fretted and spoke of Sehun.)  
  
Minseok wants to sit down, wants to discuss his feeling with Sehun and ask. Because if it isn't okay he knows that he can stop, that he can push the emotions down and focus only on Sehun -- Minseok is loyal, capable, knowing.  
  
Though he can't help but to hope.  
  
Minseok is confused by his feelings too, confused at how quickly he can feel the same way about someone else, feel like they somehow tie into Sehun's theories of past lives. As if Lu Han was meant to be there in these past lives, as if he's the missing link their colony needs, but mostly Minseok and Sehun.  
  
Minseok hangs the dream catcher up by their bed, hopes that Sehun sees, asks what it is. Minseok doesn't talk about his feelings often, but he will if prodded, he will if Sehun wants, and if they both want.  
  
Minseok just knows that he loves Sehun. Loves him more than anyone else, though there seems to be another gripping the edge of his heart and crawling inside.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
  
"The explosives have been completed sir."  
  
A tentative voice interrupts Minseok's daydreaming, has his head snapping up from where he's been staring absently at a rocky wall. "Already?" He asks in surprise, not expecting them done for another week. "Have we been able to test them?"  
  
"We'll be testing them in Section 2, sir," The woman at his door says with a bow. "Jongdae has requested your presence for them."  
  
"He would," Minseok mumbles to himself with a small smile. The explosives are done, and soon the Alliance will be on the other side of them. Soon they will start the small steps towards making Beijing one again. "You may take your leave," He tells the woman that had come to get him, waving her off so he can prepare.  
  
He pulls out the device Sehun had given him, a secure messaging device that only they two can use, and tells Sehun the news.  
  
**It's done. We're testing. Can you make it down to the Tunnels?**  
  
_I can't get away right now but I can be there in about five hours?_  
  
**We can discuss our next step then.**  
  
_You're very formal over messaging_  
  
**I'm not formal? I just believe in the use of proper grammar and communication phrasing.**  
  
_It's kind of cute_  
  
  
  
Minseok snorts at the device as he walks to section 2, rolling his eyes at Sehun's antics. They'd been texting back and forth like teenagers in one of those old films Jongdae likes to watch; the ones where girls fret over boys not answering them on phones with slidey keyboards.  
  
This one has a touchscreen, and it's primitive for Sehun's society but it works for a private network, perfect for communication while Sehun continues to lie low. They've been talking about everything and anything, not just specifically the war at hand, the operation that's close to being completed.  
  
They're avoiding it in a way, refusing to speak of the bad that could happen, of a possible end to what they're slowly becoming. And what are they becoming really? Minseok isn't sure but he knows it's something, like a slice of pain across his heart that tells him he should,  _he's meant to_.  
  
Maybe he is meant to.  
  
  
  
  
_do you ever feel a kind of pain in your heart? like someone's knocking at the door of your soul and telling you "yes, yes this is meant to be?" i feel this way all the time._  
  
  
  
  
"Minseok you're just in time," Jongdae's voice is loud, filled with the kind of excitement Minseok feels but fails to express. He's beaming, practically glowing as they enter a hollow cavern. "We have three explosives set up," He explains, and he waves around the remote control in his hand, grinning like a child with a toy. "One is large scale and the other are smaller scale, poisonous ones."  
  
"Will the blast affect the city above? Will they hear it?" Minseok asks cautiously, running his fingers absently across a sleek rock and wishing it was skin.  
  
"The ceiling above us too thick for that," Jongdae says with a shake of his head. "They won't hear or feel a thing."  
  
"Let's do it then," Minseok says, and he chances a grin, chances a high five with Jongdae, a little afraid that's it's premature, that something,  _anything_  will go wrong. He's always suspicious when things go too easy, always on edge for the next wrong thing to scream around the corner and destroy them.  
  
But it doesn't.  
  
The explosives work easily, and masks installed they review the rubble with excited eyes, hopeful eyes. The cavern is gone completely just a pile of condensed rock and nothing else, dust in the hands of Jongdae who picks up handfuls, lets them sift through his fingers.  
  
"There's hope now," Jongdae says in a single breath, eyes shining as he turns to look at Minseok, as the other Syndicate members cheer and yell and hug each other when the news reaches Section 3. "We can really do this."  
  
"Don't forget that once the Alliance is gone it's just the beginning," Minseok reminds him, and he doesn't like being the one to bring things back to reality, doesn't like being a voice of reason when Jongdae looks so happy, but he needs to. He's the Syndicate leader. "Their people will be scared, and they'll think it's an invasion. We still need to gain their trust, expose the truths of the Alliance."  
  
"It's a good thing you have Sehun isn't it?" Jongdae says just as Minseok's communication device rings with a bell, just as Sehun's name pops up on the tiny screen, small and reeking of the future.  
  
"You mean it's a good thing  _we_  have Sehun?" Minseok says in confusion. Sehun has been helping them long before Minseok knew him, when he was just a signature on a scrawled map.  
  
"No," Jongdae says with a laugh and a playful push to Minseok's shoulder, the only one that can get away with it. "He's yours now."  
  
Minseok wonders in what way Sehun really is his.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
Minseok gets the part. It's the first time in a long time that she cries, tears streaming down her cheeks as she sits on her bed -- her real one now, not the hotel -- and stares at Sehun, stares at her with all the unrequited feelings and love she has.  
  
"Will you be okay with me gone?" Is the first thing Minseok thinks to ask. "Will you call me? It's only a few months but I wish you could come with me."  
  
"You shouldn't be thinking of me," Sehun says, and Minseok is laughing through her tears because it's the voice Sehun uses when she's trying to sound like a stern older sister, when she's trying so hard to be authoritative. It doesn't suit her. "This is your dream role, and you need to go and you need to shine, and then you can come back and I'll admire your glow."  
  
"Why do you always say things like this?" Minseok sobs, and she hates this, hates that when she starts she can't stop, hates being the one in need of comfort when comforting is what she does best.  
  
"Because I like how they make you react," Sehun says, and Minseok can tell she's being truthful, being pure and honest just for her, stripping away the brat act and giving Minseok the genuine friend she needs. "They make you wiggly and happy and they make your faults disappear."  
  
"I wasn't aware I had any faults," Minseok tries to joke through her sniffles, smiling, calming down. She's going to California and she's going to be a star.  
  
"you have plenty," Sehun says, wrinkling her nose. "You forget to put towels away when you shower and you can't dance to a beat to save your life."  
  
"Dancing out of tune is what's in style these days," Minseok says, sticking her nose up in a way that she knows will make Sehun laugh.  
  
Everything is for Sehun.  
  
"You keep believing that," Sehun giggles, and the tense atmosphere, the tears and Minseok's guilt disappear as Minseok leaps onto Sehun, tickle wrestles her into the blankets; Sehun is shrieking happily, cheeks rosy and hair flying .  
  
She's so beautiful. Minseok is grateful to have stumbled upon like this, grateful she chose to be brave, to put on a front and approach.  
  
And that's it really. She's not just scared to leave her friend, not just scared to lose her, but Minseok is scared in general; of going to another new state, of acting and walking red carpets and starting some kind of career. It's not just the musical at Spence anymore, it's the real thing.  
  
"I hope my co-star is hot," Minseok says with a smile, flopping down beside Sehun and sighing sadly when Sehun dabs at her drying hands with a sweater paw.  
  
"When do they announce who it is?" Sehun asks, perplexed. "If you know, shouldn't you know the rest?"  
  
"I won't know until I arrive on set," Minseok says, and she  _is_  curious, wants to know who she can oggle off to the side while she pretends to be into the male actor, laughs and flirts and pretends she's not into girls.  
  
"Lame," Sehun says with a sigh that matches Minseok, fake cringing at her sweet sleeve as she too, flops onto the bed. Sehun starts suddenly, sits up and looks at Minseok with a laugh. "Look at us," She says, and she's waving her arms, referring to the entire situation. "I'm dirt poor and messed up and you're a rich lesbian. And yet we're just lying around listening to bad pop music all the time like any other teenager."  
  
"It just proves that we're not broken after all," Minseok tells her, and she believes it. She's not broken, and neither is Sehun. "Were just like anyone else, except we like different things. Everyone is born differently. Different hair, different personality. This is just another difference."  
  
"If you become friends with your hot female co-star can you introduce us?" Sehun giggles, steering the subject from herself, from her  _condition_  as she calls it. "I may not be into love and sex but I can appreciate an attractive woman when I see one."  
  
"You'll be my plus one on the red carpet silly," Minseok says playfully, reaching out to card her fingers through Sehun's hair. It's long, soft, and Minseok loves it most. "You'll meet her anyways."  
  
"I hope she likes bad horror movies from the 30's," Sehun announces, and Minseok can see the excitement in her eyes, the affection and the pride. "I hope you guys get along well and that your movie is amazing."  
  
"What would I do without you?" Minseok says wistfully, and her heart is giving one of those squeezes, the ones she doesn't like. Too much emotion, too much investment. Sehun is her kindred spirit, her best friend. She can't ever lose this.  
  
"You'd die," Sehun says pointing at the ceiling and drawing a circle.  
  
She really would.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
Sehun's favourite part of Minseok's villa is the balcony outside his room that overlooks the river, quiet and beautiful. It's white, with small chairs and the dream catcher hanging above him, swaying in the soft wind.  
  
He likes to sit out here during the nights in which he can't sleep, clad in nothing but the thin sleeping robe he owns and his favourite pair of lace underwear. Sehun feels most himself during these times, feels like he wanted to, he could reach over the balcony railing and touch the tiny birds that flutter by, could leap into the water and float, like a log down the river and into the gorgeous abyss.  
  
Sehun writes while he's out here, thinks about his dreams, records them and wonders, listens, thinks of the quiet sounds of the waves on the water, and of the creaks of the home. He thinks of whether Minseok awake, or is he's dreaming. thinks of what he's dreaming out.  
  
Sehun dreams of a lot of things, but mostly he dreams of acceptance. The acceptance his Mother could never give him, or the acceptance his Father would never have the time to give. He thinks of the acceptance in Minseok's eyes, and of the closeness of their souls even as Minseok still remains unattainable -- still reminds to far away for Sehun to reach from the inside of his dreams out, to grasp and pull inside.  
  
Sometimes when Sehun sits outside by the dream catcher he wonders if he could sneak to the piano room and play, wonders if Minseok would wake if he heard the sounds of the melody Sehun is creating for him.  
  
  
  
_you, the creator of my dreams, the catcher of my dreams, to whom i know nothing but dedication. i do not call you master because you are my teacher, but because i feel as though i could entrust my life to you, as though i could never leave this villa._  
  
  
  
"You're still awake?"  
  
Minseoks voice is nearly silent, muffled in the early hours of morning. He's fully clothed, well rested and eyes bright as he sits next to Sehun. Minseok's staring at him as usual, and yet today he doesn't seem to be assessing, eyes soft, just looking.  
  
"Do you do this often?" Minseok asks, and there's something overly hushed in the way he speaks, as if afraid to upset the quiet spell that's washed over the balcony.  
  
"Sometimes," Sehun answers quietly, head bowed. He doesn't want to be scolded. "I like the moon and the river. It helps me think."  
  
"It's nice isn't it?" Minseok says, doesn't scold him, eyes gazing steadily into Sehun's own shaky ones. "There's always something different about thinking when the moon is out and the sun is gone."  
  
"I like full moons best, I think," Sehun turns to face Minseok, bows to him. "Master, I know I should be asleep at this time but --"  
  
"Sleep whenever you need, darling," Minseok tells him, and Sehun's heart  _lurches_  at the endearment,  _yearns_  for the chance to hear it again. "I cannot dictate things such as that."  
  
"And the morning prayer?" Sehun asks tentatively, unsure of how far his privilege stretches.  
  
"You're not obligated to join me in that," Minseok says gently, and he's always gentle, authoritative but without the bite. "Though I do enjoy your company."  
  
"If I'd known I could sleep in some days I would probably be better during some lessons," Sehun admits sheepishly, thinking of times when he was so tired he could barely understand Minseok's voice, let alone retain his words.  
  
"Do you want to sleep today?" Minseok reaches out, fingers lightly touching the base of Sehun's neck, scratching lightly at the hair there as if Sehun is a dog. And Sehun is nearly ashamed at how much he enjoys it, barely stopping himself from leaning back into the touch, from making a soft noise.  
  
"Please," Sehun answers, and he's flushing, shy always in the face of Minseok, hardly the brash and rude boy he had been when he'd arrived in Florence.  
  
"Rest then," Minseok says, hand moving to the top of Sehun's head, fingers stroking gently through the hair there. "We need to cut your hair."  
  
"I wish I could leave it long," Sehun sighs, and he's starting to get sleepy, starting to realize how long he's sat writing when rays of sunlight stream over the tops of the trees. "Leave it long and tie it up decoratively, like a princess."  
  
"We could get you a wig," Minseok says, and his voice is full of promise. hand dropping to rest on Sehun's thigh. It's too intimate, has Sehun shying away.  _you can't enjoy this too much_  
  
"Could we?" Sehun asks, and he's startled by the sudden kindness. "Are they not expensive?"  
  
"The price doesn't matter," Minseok assures him, takes his hand and tugs him up from his chair. "Sleep now."  
  
"Yes master," Sehun says, and this time it's sarcastic, teasing.  
  
"Don't be silly," Minseok says, and he's also teasing. "I'll wake you for lunch."  
  
  
Sehun goes to sleep with a smile on his face, a different one from usual. Something feels new about the way they had talked, the atmosphere. Hopeful.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
  
"You're antsy," Lu Han tells Minseok, sitting beside him and prodding him gently, worried eyes large, like those of an animal. "You need to relax. Sehun is fine."  
  
"And if he's not?" Minseok frets, and he's usually never like this, usually calm, but Sehun is pregnant and Sehun is  _not here_. "I feel lost not being able to be with Sehun and protect him."  
  
"You should protect other things," Lu Han announces, as if he's thought of the best idea in the world; he says everything like this, the enthusiasm of a small child combined with the wisdom of the oldest elder, perfection wrapped in one. "I still think you should join the patrol."  
  
"I'm not meant for that," Minseok says sadly, a repeated conversation, almost an argument. "I can't join them."  
  
"But you're bored and you're stressed," Lu Han insists. He's sitting cross-legged in the small cot as he usually does, and Minseok is once again struck by how uncomfortable it must be. "You need to  _do_  something. You're going crazy just sitting around."  
  
"I talk to you," Minseok points out quietly, pouts a little. "You're good company."  
  
"But not enough," Lu Han deflects his compliment, deflects all compliments. "I could go, you know, to utopia."  
  
"What would you do there?" Minseok asks, blinking in confusion.  
  
"I can measure, and I have a steady hand," Lu Han says with a small smile. "Sehun asked me to go with him and help them construct the walls but I said no."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because he wanted someone to stay with you," Lu Han says simply, and he looks almost guilty for a second. "He said you needed someone else to love aside from him, someone to take care of you."  
  
Minseok's heart skips a beat at the word love, clinging to the tiny hint that he hopes is there, before focusing, leaving it behind. "I think he's the one that needs to be taken care of," Minseok mumbles, and he's nodding staring up at Lu Han. "I have a proposal. If you go up to utopia and watch over Sehun, I'll join the patrol."  
  
"Okay," Lu Han agrees, and when he smiles his eyes sparkle even with the lack of light in Hatharat, like diamonds of hope that cause Minseok to fall into them. "Perhaps he needs someone else to love also."  
  
"Am I not enough?" Minseok asks, hypocritical with the way his heart stutters near Lu Han, near both of them.  
  
"Sometimes even when one has someone who is enough, they are not yet complete," Is all Lu Han says, cryptic in the way that he often speaks, gentle and understanding despite the mystery.  
  
"Go to utopia then," Minseok says. "They could use your help. All of us."  
  
"It will help me feel more accepted I think." Lu Han admits, and his sparkle with something else, a sad kind of twinkle. "Because even though I have the both of you I can't help but feel I don't belong in this colony."  
  
"You belong no matter what," Minseok says in a reassuring voice, and he can't help it when he moves to sit on the cot beside Lu Han, wincing at how hard it is beneath him. "Even if you never left this home you would be a part of Pal-Hatharat."  
  
"And here, in this house," Lu Han says, voice slow and unsure. "Am I part of here?"  
  
"You adapted quite quickly," Minseok says in place of answer. "I feel as though you were meant to step through the gates sometimes."  
  
"I thought that too," Lu Han says airily, and Minseok is startled to feel a cold touch on his cheek, startled to see Lu Han so close to him, gaze intense, eyelashes fluttering inches from Minseok's own.  
  
He pulls back too fast, and yet not fast enough, leaning back against the wall and regarding Minseok carefully, eyes still intense but softer now, like a lazy cat. "I saw the dream catcher you were completing, and I knew."  
  
"You know what a dream catcher is?" Minseok asks in surprise, still recovering from the closeness of Lu Han, from the candy smell of his breath fanning across his waiting lips.  
  
"I saw it in a dream once," Lu Han says. "It was far off, a beacon of light beckoning, telling me that soon I would reach it. And I did," He looks at Minseok with something akin to worship, gratefulness. "I had the dream and the next day I came here and you saved me, and you were making a dream catcher, and I knew."  
  
Minseok isn't sure what he knows, aside from Sehun, and aside from Lu Han, and aside from the simpleness in which he wishes to live. But he does know that the energy of Kal-Hath always chooses what it needs.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Seoul, South Korea ; Year 2013**  
  
  
"When are you going to find a nice sweet Korean girl to settle down with?" Sehun's Mother asks over dinner, stares at him almost knowingly. "You're going to be twenty-one. It's about time you did."  
  
"I'm going to Canada, Mother," Sehun says with a confused blink. "Unless I find a Korean girl there it won't happen until I'm done my schooling. And you know I'm not interested in dating."  
  
"It disappoints me," She says with a huff, taking a sip from her tea, regarding him like a hawk observing its prey.  
  
"Everything I do disappoints you, Mother," Sehun says scathingly, and yet his tone is still polite, always polite with his Mother. "How is this any different?"  
  
"You should stay in Korea," His Mother says with a scowl, and Sehun nearly laughs. He's an adult and she has no control over him, cannot make him do a single thing. And yet she does have so much control and Sehun is so scared; of standing up to her, of revealing who he really is, of leaving forever. "I think you're staying. You're not allowed to go anymore."  
  
"I already got accepted," Sehun says with a shrug. "I'm going."  
  
  
  
_for a dream to become reality, one must have surety. is this the right dream? the right goal? the right one to chase with every fiber of my fragile being? master says that the common human problem is that they spend their lives picking the wrong dream and end up unhappy. will i end up unhappy?_  
  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **My Mom's being difficult again, she's trying to make me stay in Korea**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **Well she can't really stop you. Are you okay?**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠: **I'm fine, I'm just .. ;_;**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **Snuggle time with oppa**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **Lies down on top of you :( Thank you :(**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I think she hates me**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **She doesn't hate you. She just doesn't have your best interests at heart.**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **parents often treat their children like posessions without even realizing it, mine were the same way. They never really approved of me moving away**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **how did you make them love you again?**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **They never did stop loving me. They were just confused for a long while.**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I'm sorry :( I didn't mean to bring this up. I'm just, I want to leave.**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **Just be patient**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I love you!**  
  
  
Sehun gives up after dinner, curls up in his bed to text Minseok, feels sad. He cleans after a while, confused to not find his lube anywhere, hoping he's just dropped it under his bed.  
  
He would hate for anyone to find it.  
  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I love you too ;-;**  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
  
Sehun arrives in the tunnels hours late, frazzled and wound up tight, eyes slightly wild as he knocks on the rocks to alert Minseok of his presence.  
  
"Are you alright?" Minseok asks with panic across his face, assuming the worst, heart sinking already at the thought that the operation may be over before it begins.  
  
"I--" Sehun stutters, and Minseok is startled to see such a lack of composure, Sehun looking every bit like the teenager he is for once. "It's nothing to panic over don't worry about, just the aftermath of my anxiety."  
  
"Did something happen?" Minseok asks, and he takes a step forward, leads Sehun from his room and to the blown in Section in a hurry. "Nothing that will affect us?"  
  
"No, I'm just worried because Lu Han--"  
  
"Did he find you?" Minseok asks sharply, cuts Sehun off in his surprise.  
  
"No, he's in the complete wrong direction, seems close to outing one of the most devout leaders," Sehun says and Minseok calm, relaxing his near steel grip on Sehun's shoulder. He nods and steps back, waiting for Sehun to continue. "He's just working very fast and no matter who he crowns as the spy it means they'll bomb right after."  
  
"When can we plant the explosives?" Minseok asks, and he's watching Sehun carefully as he gazes at the rubble, runs his finger along the soot of a destroyed rock.  
  
"The Alliance will be out of the city in three days," Sehun tells him, turning away from the test site with a shaky smile. He's calming down, though still rattled, still trembling and Minseok wants nothing more than to reach out and soothe him. "They'll be in the Sky ship. We should be able to get them planted then -- but -- who's going to do the planting?"  
  
"Me, you and Jongdae," Minseok says calmly, ignoring the widening of Sehun's eyes at his own direct inclusion. "You should be fine. Like you said Lu Han's on a completely wrong trail and you've got access to these buildings by default. Jongdae lives in the city and I know my way around."  
  
"Do you think we can do this without being caught?" Sehun says in a quiet voice, the kind that reeks of future disappoint, over worry. "We won't be able to detonate until next week at the earliest. There's a banquet and all the leaders will be together in the largest building."  
  
"We'll be fine," Minseok nods, and he does reach out, takes Sehun's wrist and rubs soothingly with a thumb. Sehun visibly relaxes, tense posture relaxing, arm going lax in Minseok's hold. "We're so close."  
  
"I'm surprised you're okay with the casualties," Sehun says truthfully as they sit on Minseok's cot, speaking of the details of the plan, which building to plant first. Sehun will take the main Alliance building, will skirt his way through the highest security under disguise of his Father's orders.  
  
"I'm not," Minseok says absently, hollowly. "But in a situation like this, you sometimes have no choice. And I doubt the people of the Floor Sector will believe in the Syndicate as much if we leave them alive."  
  
"Anger and oppression often leads people to see death as the only option," Sehun says, and there's wisdom in his words, a maturity that surprises Minseok. "The largest building is owned by the Lu Family so I worry the rest of them will be inside."  
  
"Can we get them out?" Minseok asks, though the worry sits at the back of his mind. "Will they be a threat to us alive?"  
  
"His family supports the Alliance fully, but they'll back down in the face of a source with more power."  
  
"So this will scare them into doing nothing?" Minseok asks, and it feels cruel, hopeless. Saving his people will make him the bad guy to others, will sit on his conscience with death for the rest of his life. "I wish I could destroy the Alliance without taking a life."  
  
"My Father deserves to die," Sehun says softly, nearly too quiet, and Minseok can see the hatred in his eyes, can see the pain of a life that has never been his own. "Most of the leaders too. They're like robots you know, programmed to hate under the rule of my Father."  
  
"And Lu Han? The Intelligence leader?"  
  
"He's a good guy," Sehun says with eyes downcast. "His family put him into this life, made him into what he is." Sehun blinks slowly, looks at the wall behind them as if scared to look Minseok in the eye. "If I could save Lu Han and destroy his family I would. He's always been the kindest to me."  
  
"And yet he's still the enemy," Minseok says, and he too has lowered his voice to the softness that comes with serious conversation.  
  
"Life is cruel," Sehun says, and he's a little louder now, shaking off their words and brightening with hope. "Life is cruel but so is the Alliance. And we don't have the time to worry about a single life when millions on the Ground are at stake."  
  
"A leader must often go against their own morals to get done what must be done," Minseok says solemnly, and he's startled to find Sehun shaking his shoulder, looking at him with a kind of intensity he rarely exhibits.  
  
"Think of the brightness," Sehun says, and his words are nearly cryptic, barely making sense through Minseok's haze of regret. "The explosives are ready. Everything you've been working towards for years is finally coming to where it's supposed to go."  
  
"And the real hero isn't even me," Minseok says with a sigh, leaning back against the cool cave wall and looking at Sehun. He's a beautiful kid, really.  
  
"Who is?" Sehun asks in confusion, and he's always humble, always simple in the way he feels.  
  
"You've done more for the Syndicate than I have," Minseok admits, and he's smiling gently.  
  
"My maps aren't that special," Sehun murmurs, and he still looks confused.  
  
"The one who makes them is, though," Minseok counters, and he doesn't miss the way Sehun reacts, a kind of hopeful pride cross his usually passive features.

  
  
  
_and looking back for the clues you were always the one who everyone looked up to weren't you? and i -- us, we , -- we were just standing at your side, behind you, in more ways than one and for the simple reason of loving you. and what better feeling is there than to be in love with someone like oh sehun?_  
  


 

 

 

  
_"But it's so hard to get to you  
Cause when you see the sun, I see the moon"_

  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**Los Angeles, California -- 1980's**  
  
  
Minseok has never really like airports. They represent too much; beginnings but also endings and they remind Minseok painfully of the fact that if something is beginning it means something else is ending.  
  
And its not like her and Sehun's friendship is  _ending_  its just that their time is. For some reason it feels as if they were dating, as if Sehun was her girlfriend and they've just broken up.  
  
She's being dramatic.  
  
Minseok looks around distractedly, somewhat for her driver and somewhat just for an excuse to look around, absent and confused. She's excited; excited to be in a new city, to be in her first real movie, to dance the streets of somewhere with new people.  
  
Minseok's life is starting now and yet she doesn't want to leave her best friend behind.  
  
And Sehun -- Sehun will be fine. She's strong on her own, as she'd proved many times to Minseok when they weren't even friends, when Sehun was still fighting her charity, her kindness, her friendly advances.  
  
Sehun, she's given Minseok more strength than she realizes, has made her feel as though she can be brave, stand up the entire world. Maybe be one of those brave celebrities in the future that comes out, that stands tall among the hate and the support, the balancing of the sides.  
  
She hopes Sehun one day finds the bravery to tell someone else how her body feels, to not pretend, to be strong in the face of people just not  _understanding._  Minseok hopes for a lot of things, but she hopes for Sehun's happiness most, hopes for Sehun to love herself in the way that Minseok does and perhaps more because no one can really love someone as much as they, themselves should.  
  
Self love is the first kind of love a person needs.  
  
  
  
_and what comes after? what comes after those dreams that have you shaking in your sleep, not from fear but anticipation. the ones you wake up feeling lost after, unsure of what they were but knowing, just knowing they were important. and you had everything you ever needed and nothing, nothing could stop you._

 

  
  
  
And Minseok, as much as she believes in the true happiness of friends over lovers, can't help herself when she steps into the car to sit next to her co-star. After all, everyone dreams of having the chance to be with their celebrity crush.

 

 

 

 

╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
"I'm sure my Mother will appreciate me dressing so finely," Sehun mutters, adjusting the collar of the tunic Minseok's given, uncomfortable in the stuffy clothing, uncomfortable in anything that isn't the light, airy things he's been wearing for the past few months. "She's always had an eye for rich things."  
  
"And rich people?" Minseok jokes, probably referring to Sehun's Father and of the other men she's had in the years since.  
  
"She would like you, probably," Sehun says with a wry smile. "You two can get along about respect and moral values."  
  
"I wasn't aware I actually had moral values," Minseok says with a chuckle, reaching out to fix the collar that Sehun struggles with, hands soft against the skin of Sehun's collarbones. "Many people do not think highly of gay philosophers."  
  
"Ah but she doesn't know this," Sehun says knowingly. "She isn't even aware that her missing corsets are not the work of a peasant thief."  
  
"We should buy you some," Minseok murmurs thoughtfully, smoothing his hands down Sehun's sides to get rid of wrinkles, stepping back to admire his work with a toothy grin. "Maybe some proper ladies clothing. You could wear it around the villa."  
  
"Do you think so?" Sehun asks, and he's lighting up, happy, hopeful. "When I get back from home?"  
  
And Sehun hates using the word home to describe that place now when Minseok's villa is his home, when Florence is a city kinder to him than his own ever has been.  
  
"Of course," Minseok reaches out to smooth out a stray wrinkle, a bit of cloth far too close to Sehun's waist. "It can be your reward for being so good, for staying here so long and dealing so finely with your lessons."  
  
"Thank you master," Sehun says with a bow, nearly forgetting the nerves of visiting his Mother. She's been paying dutifully, letters encased with money, but Sehun is yet to answer a single one, yet to contact her in any way aside from to respond with confirmation of him returning home for a weeks time.  
  
"I have a horse and carriage waiting outside," Minseok tells him as they pass through the hallways, Sehun's small bag of luggage held in his arms. "I can ride with you to the edge of Florence but that's it."  
  
"I'll be back soon," Sehun says, and he feels as though he's comforting himself more than Minseok. "Three weeks with travel."  
  
"What a long three weeks it will be," Minseok says airily as they board the carriage, the horse jumping into action immediately as the driver is alerted. "Who will I scold?"  
  
"And who will drink all of your wine?"  
  
"Me," Minseok announces, and he's laughing joyously, looking beautiful in the early afternoon light that shines through the carriage windows. "I'll get drunk and compose sad piano pieces about missing students."  
  
Sehun goes red, flushing to the tips of his ears. It's a joke -- he knows -- but it still affects him, still has him shying away even while beside Minseok. "Oh please," He says shakily. "I'm not that special. You'll barely miss me."  
  
"I'll miss you," Minseok says seriously, and the shift in the atmosphere is sudden, like a crackle of slow electricity. "And don't think because you're away you can slack. Work on your writing project."  
  
"Yes master," Sehun says solemnly, and his head is bowed, once again. "I'll have five pages done by the ride back. And I'll exhibit respect to those around me whether I enjoy their company or not."  
  
"That's my good boy," Minseok says softly, and the fondness in his eyes is almost too much for Sehun to bear, too much for the shaking of his heart.  
  
The carriage draws to a halt, and Sehun is startled for a moment, before he sees the long stretch of road ahead of them, devoid of city noise. "I'll be taking my leave now," Minseok tells him, and he reaches over, kisses Sehun's cheek before hopping from the carriage, sly grin on his face. "See you soon."  
  
Sehun is so shocked, hand coming to rest on his cheek, flustered and shy, that he forgets to say goodbye.  
  
  
_and during that time on the road, the sway of the carriage beneath me rocking me into a fitful sleep, i missed the dream catcher. had it really made my dreams good, or was i stressed from the journey, stressed from the tiniest sign of hope, of a dream coming to be true. was the unattainable, really becoming the opposite of what i thought it to be?_  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
  
Lu Han learns two things very quickly in Pal-Hatharat. One, that he likes Sehun, and two, that he likes Minseok. He watches them together, sits off to the side and observes, sits close with them and experiences.  
  
Sehun, because he's simple. Enthusiastic, clingy, driven, passionate about his future child and yet youthful, naive.  
  
Minseok, because he's complex. A web of hidden emotions and insecurities, thoughts that he rarely lets come to the surface. And yet Minseok is simple in what he wants and needs. Security, something to take care of, something to feel productive.  
  
Lu Han, he just craves the closeness of others, craves complexity and simplicity and can't help but to notice both interwoven at once.  
  
And Minseok and Sehun, they're so close, a tight winding of souls that Lu Han notices with his bright eyes, checks for the little things; the way they automatically turn to each other, and the way Sehun sits up straighter when Minseok enters a room, even if it hurts his back to do so.  
  
The way Minseok is always worrying about Sehun, always fretting and taking care of and making sure he's  _okay_. And he takes care of Lu Han now too, and Lu Han craves it, wants them both.  
  
But he's unsure of how to approach this, how to let them know he doesn't want to ruin their relationship, doesn't want to ruin the new friendship they have; he's okay if they both reject him because what they have is so beautiful, he just can't help but think he's  _meant_  to be here with them.  
  
He dreams a lot, of dreams themselves. Of words written on pages, old and hollow, and of dream catchers. He dreams of different lifetimes with himself on the outside looking in, meant to be there and yet missing. And he sees a string breaking in each dream, a string that should be woven with the one trailing from his own fingers.  
  
Lu Han doesn't know what it means, but he does know that Sehun, Minseok, they're in all of them, with him or without him, almost there and not quite what they should be, and he wants them. Is already too attached to every leave the colony, indebted to Minseok in more ways than one, already wanting to watch over the child, to watch over them.  
  
He decides to make a dream catcher of his own, different from the one that Minseok's completed, the one that he wants to hang above Sehun to protect him and their child forever. It's for the both of them, and Lu Han can see it vividly, can see himself in another lifetime, hands weaving thread as he sits in a city above the ground.  
  
  
  
_i made this for you, you know. a treasure and i hope you keep it always and i hope that your friends make it from the ground to sky and that you prosper. and don't miss me while i'm gone even when the regret will flow through you because i meant for this and i sacrificed_  
  
  
  
And Lu Han, he doesn't believe in the Kal-Hath, but he does believe there are other cosmic forces alive, ones that are so old they engrave themselves into the Earth below and make a home floating through the lives and souls of others. A draconic frequency that keeps souls connected and attached.  
  
These thoughts, they're complicated and they're driven and they're nothing like Lu Han himself who just craves affection, love, acceptance. From Minseok and from Sehun.

 

 

  
⚘

 

 

 

  
_“I believe death is only a door. When it closes, another opens. If I cared to imagine a heaven, I would imagine a door opening and behind it, I would find him there. “ -- Sonmi 451_

 

 

 

  
⚘

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Seoul, South Korea ; Year 2013**  
  
  
When Sehun is awoken to find his Mother stony faced, his phone in one land, his laptop in the other, Sehun knows that this is the end. Knows that he'll never be with Minseok, never live in Canada, knows that she'll never love him, never accept him.  
  
He'll never be anything in a world where he has to hide.  
  
He sits at the kitchen table, stares at his Father who seems less inclined to care, always the absent one in their "close" family.  
  
He sits at the kitchen table across from his Mother, his Mother looks at him as if he is nothing, as if he's disappointed her more than he ever has in his long life of being a disappointment.  
  
"Were you ever going to tell me the truth about  _that boy_?" His Mother says, and it's scathing, harsh. Sehun hates the way she calls Minseok  _that boy_ , wants to leap from his chair. He knows what's coming. "Or were you going to hide this from me forever?"  
  
"What would be the point in telling you when you would ruin my happiness anyway?" Sehun says, and he keeps the anger from his voice, keeps himself quiet, passive, emotionless. For as long as he can, as long as he can fight her off, show that he doesn't care.  
  
"We cannot have a --" She pauses, flips her hair and looks at him with disgust. "We cannot have a Son that likes men in our household."  
  
"And where will I go?" Sehun challenges, sneers. "Or will you throw me on the street?"  
  
"You can choose," Sehun's Mother says, and Sehun is glad that she's not screaming, not yelling or calling him terrible names, though there's something much worse about the coldness of her tone, the sharp hatred in her eyes. "Either you end things, or you can live in the streets of Seoul."  
  
"You can't stop me," Sehun says sharply. "I've got enough money to go to Canada."  
  
"On a student account?" His Mother laughs. "Your account is under mine, remember? I'm withholding your funds until you break up with that boy, and you show me proof. Your computer and your phone are now mine, and you will do it with me across the table."  
  
Sehun finally cracks, shows emotion as the tears well up in his eyes and the anger flows through his veins, wants to be released. He knew this would happen, had seen this coming for months, but he hadn't expected such cruelty, hadn't expected to be homeless, threatened because of who he loves.  
  
"You can't-- you can't do that," Sehun chokes, and he's standing up now, fuming, crying, angry. "I won't break up with him. I'll live on the streets and I'll starve to death and you can regret at my funeral."  
  
"Is that what you want?" His Mother asks, and she laughs hollowly, mocking him with her actions. "You've sinned, and now you must take the punishment, and you will learn and you will find a nice Korean girl. Cut contact with the boy in Canada and walk the road to forgiveness."  
  
"I don't want to be forgiven by you," Sehun snarls, loses his temper, build up frustration, anger, resentment. "Why would I? You've treated me like shit my entire life. Just let me be me."  
  
"I've put a roof over your head, paid for your education, and fed you," His Mother snaps, and she's angry now, standing up to face him despite being a full foot shorter. "You are a fool to think that--"  
  
"It isn't just enough to give someone their basic needs, Mother," Sehun says, and his voice is quieter now, the kind that comes out steady and yet is angrier than ever. "You can take those away and I'll just hate you even more. You've tried to dictate who I am and what I do. A child is not your possession."  
  
"I created you," Sehun's Mother says, and she too is quieter, calmed by the lull of seething fury. "I created you, and therefore I own you."  
  
"You're disgusting and I fucking hate you," Sehun shrieks, lets it out,  _hurts_.  
  
"Break up with him," His Mother  _growls_ , and the reality of the situation hits Sehun.  
  
He's never going to see Minseok again.  
  
"I have no choice do I?" He says, and he's sobbing, hollow, empty, the fluttering of the promises of the night before stabbing pains in his heart. Sehun's hands shake as he sits down, shake as his Mother hands him his phone.  
  
  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **We can't be together anymore.**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I'm not coming to Canada. I'm staying in Seoul to become a better son. I'm sorry I've wasted your time, this was all a mistake.**  
  
To: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **I've been too clingy and I thought this was the right path. I have no choice in this. I'm sorry Minseok-Hyung.**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **Sehun?? Are you okay?/ what happened why is this coming all of a sudden?? I.. I don't know what to say.**  
  
From: ~(=^‥^)/ 고양이~오빠:  **is this your mother's doing? I told you not to worry about her opinion. don't let her scare you.**  
  
  
  
Sehun's phone is ripped from his hands before he can answer, hitting the floor with a crash when he tries to fight for it back, tries to wrestle it from His Mother's grasp to tell Minseok the truth to tell him he's sorry and he takes it back.  
  
"You will never speak to him again," His Mother says firmly, triumphantly. "You may go to your room now, and I will give your computer and phone back when you go to Yonsei and cancel your exchange application."  
  
"Yes, Mother," Sehun says meekly, defeated. He bows, shakes, leaves the room.  
  
Sehun isn't sure when he falls asleep, but he wakes up with tears still staining his cheeks.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Sky City**  
  
  
_I've planted my explosives. No guards, you were right, this building is nearly deserted._  
  
**It's usually only used for the Spring banquet. There's an underground section of high caliber weapons. The blast will reach them. It'll cave in a part of Section 1, but not where the Ground is accessed.**  
  
_I haven't heard from Jongdae and Joonmyun, how are things on your end?_  
  
**I'm in the lower corridors. I scanned myself in easily and I'm 'under orders from Leader Oh to get some files for the investigation'. Most low-level Alliance workers know of the spy investigation so they said nothing.**  
  
_Is there a danger of someone of a higher level catching you? Someone who knows you're not supposed to be there?_  
  
**There's a chance I could run into Lu Han. But I doubt the timing would be that bad for him to be down here looking for files.**  
  
_Get off the device then and do your work. Quickly._  
  
**Yes hyung.**  
  
_Good boy!_  
  
  
  
Sehun nearly giggles out loud at the flirtatious of their texts, fuzzy feeling lasting for quite a few minutes after he puts it away.  
  
He slinks close to the wall, pulls the packs of explosives from his bag. Sehun feels his heart beating fast, nearly shaking his rib cage as he places them carefully on the ground behind racks of computer discs, underneath boxes and boxes of files -- every citizen, Ground and Sky -- makes his way back near the door.  
  
**The explosives are planted. I'm getting out of here now.**  
  
_Good. Jongdae and Joonmyun got theirs without hassle... everything seems too easy. So please get out quickly. I'm getting paranoid._  
  
**It'll be okay Hyung. Easy is good. Not always suspicious.**  
  
_you say that now but please be careful._  
  
**I will ... you don't need to worry about me.**  
  
_I can't help it. I want to come out of this entire thing with you by my side_  
  
**I can't not pay attention to my device with you saying things like that...**  
  
_hurry up._  
  
**Yes _sir_**  
  
  
  
The hallways are empty -- suspiciously so -- white walls sleek, too bright, broken light flickering above Sehun, triggering his paranoia. He walks calmly now, free of the incriminating packs, easily passing as bored Oh Sehun, wandering the halls of the Lu Family building; just as he'd done as a child, eyes full of muted wonder as Lu Han, then a teenager had shown him around, had led through him the endless winding hallways.  
  
Sehun hadn't quite understood what anything meant back then, hadn't understood that he would once grow to hate the very thing that had created him, turned childhood friends to enemies.  
  
"Sehun?" A voice interrupts his memories, a too familiar voice that has him cringing, turning sharply. Sehun curses inwardly, knowing that his response is suspicious, body language caged; he can't help it, he's wound up, stressed out, _nervous_.  
  
"Lu Han," He says cheerily, smile wide and eyes  _too wide too bright too fake_.  
  
Lu Han says nothing at first, just finds a few feet away from Sehun, eyes strangely soft as they look at each other. He walks forward, bows and when he straightens Sehun swears he sees something sad in the way Lu Han looks at him, in the way his eyes flicker from Sehun's face to the wall, to his face again where they waver.  
  
"I made you something," Lu Han says, as if he's unsure of what he's made of why he's done it. He pulls a dream catcher from the bag slung over his shoulder, hands it to Sehun.  
  
It feels important for a reason Sehun can't quite place, like a missing piece of the puzzle that it his heart slotting in, almost but not quite. The shape is wrong, the timing wrong. Sehun frowns.  
  
Lu Han puts a hand on Sehun's shoulder, and he smiles then, nods once and blinks in that way only Lu Han does. "I know the truth," He says, cryptic. Sehun's heart beats faster, eyes widening, panic settling in low in his stomach.  
  
What he says next however, does nothing but confuse Sehun, paranoia reaching it's peak before dissipating in a cloud of something he doesn't quite understand, will perhaps never understand.  
  
"I too, am not afraid to look down."  
  
  
  
_i saw someone today. in the crowd at the market. he was pretty, and when i stood close to him to gather fruit for master i could see his eyelashes, long and nice. he had brown hair a skinny body and his hands looked like the kind of hands you dream about. i think i could have loved him in another life -- but the unattainable thing is there to steal me away this time._  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
"Sehun I'm so excited I'm actually a little embarrassed, how will I act around her? I could barely talk to her in the car and oh my God," Minseok chatters excitedly over the phone, a non stop stream of excitement, joy that has Sehun giggling into her pillow, cradling the phone her ear and twirling the cord.  
  
She feels cute when she does, knee high soccer socks on her feet and school skirt still on. "It's for the look," She says when Minseok laughs over the line. "I wish I could show you."  
  
"They probably make your legs look great," Minseok teases, and her voice is beautiful, though it's tinny, distant. "I always wanted your legs."  
  
"I'm lanky," Sehun pouts, though she straightens out her features when she remembers that Minseok can't see her, can't reach out and poke the frown off her lips. "I wish I had your curves."  
  
"Imagine being your height with my curves," Minseok says wistfully into the receiver. "The dream girl."  
  
"Does Lu Han have curves?" It's Sehun's turn to tease, to imagine the blush on Minseok's cheeks as she thinks of it.  
  
"She has no ass," Minseok deadpans truthfully, and Sehun laughs, a kind of shrieking donkey thing that probably worries her Mother down the hall. "She has the prettiest face though and the softest voice, and her thighs--"  
  
"Keep it PG," Sehun warns her, but she's giggling. "I don't need to know the details of your future sex life."  
  
"She's probably straight," Minseok sighs, and she sounds sad for a moment, regretful. "So it's just our imaginary sex life."  
  
"You never know," Sehun says reassuringly. "What's she like?"  
  
"Friendly, invasive," Minseok mumbles. "The kind of girl that's flirty and you could think she was gay but then she's like that to  _everyone_."  
  
"You can get close with her and have a hot best friend," Sehun says, and it sounds very logical to her. She doesn't understand romantic feelings, has a hard time working her heart around how it must feel.  
  
"I already have a hot best friend," Minseok protests, and Sehun's heart explodes with the thing that's romantic. She wonders what romantic love feels like.  
  
"Minseok what does romantic love feel like?" Sehun asks suddenly, sitting up in bed and crossing her legs, picking at the hem of her socks.  
  
"It's hard to describe unless you've felt it," Minseok says seriously, shifting to fit Sehun's mood, always malleable, always beautiful. "Sometimes it's like fireworks, and others a hurricane, and sometimes it's like a slow moving fog."  
  
"What was the last time like?"  
  
"The last time was all three I think," Minseok says. "It started out as fireworks in a hurricane, and then it slowed to a mist."  
  
"Will you fall in love with Lu Han?" Sehun asks, and she doesn't know why it makes her feel sad, doesn't know what kind of jealousy she feels.  _don't forget about me if you fall in love._  
  
"I could," Minseok sounds tired over the phone, has probably had a long day. "I've already got the fan kind of love, and I think I could love her for real though."  
  
"I hope you do," Sehun says, and she tries not to regret her words. "You guys can fall in love, and you can smile a lot."  
  
"And you?" Minseok asks, and Sehun wants to cry because Minseok always thinks of her, always no matter what. "Will you smile?"  
  
"If you're happy I'm happy," Sehun says, curling up under her blankets with the phone close to her ear. "That's what friends are for."  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Tuscany, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
  
_i dreamt of you on my way here. of your lips on my cheek, my forehead, my own lips, other places too. the unattainable. what am i to you, but a child? a student? im sorry, i didn't mean to dream of you, and i have not much else to say besides to curse dreams, to hate them for the way in which they present those things that can never, ever happen._  
  
  
"Who is this?" Sehun asks in confusion the moment he's through the door, the moment he's slipped his boots off and bowed respectfully to his Mother. He doesn't bow to the man she's with, just stares, neither curious nor caring.  
  
"This is Angelo," His Mother says with a gentle smile, the one that is only half threatening. "Your stepfather."  
  
"I've been gone for four months and you've gotten married?" Sehun says in disbelief, throws himself into a chair at their kitchen table, huffs.  
  
"Some loves just grow faster than others," She says with an air of bragging, sitting down near him and beaming at the stranger.  
  
Sehun feels an instant dislike, a kind of lack of trust that slithers up his legs and stays close to his chest. He tries to remember Minseok's words, "respect even those you do not dislike," but Sehun has not yet grown enough, has not yet learned to keep is icy tongue at bay.  
  
"Giving you back all the money you've spent on my lessons, I suppose?" Sehun says in a condescending voice, finding it difficult to even show his Mother, the one person who used to be the only one for his respect, that honour.  
  
"You will not speak to your Mother like that," Anjamo says sternly. He's a chubby man with a mustache and a twitching eyebrow. Sehun likes him even less now that he's spoken.  
  
"And who are  _you_ , to tell  _me_  what to do?" Sehun laughs. He's had enough of this, already wishes he hadn't come home. "I'll be in my bedroom."  
  
"Oh! You don't have a bedroom anymore," His Mother says, and she  _does_  sound apologetic, at least. "It's being renovated into a room for the new baby."  
  
"The new baby?" Sehun asks, and he's blinking, shocked. "Where will I sleep?"  
  
"There's a cot in the back room you can use," Almaggio says in his Mother's place, waves him off like he's a child. "And it will be in your best interest to treat me with respect as I am the man of the house now."  
  
"Shut up," Sehun, and he's rolling his eyes like he's n his young teens, displaying the attitude of a child. "You're not the man of any house."  
  
There's the sound of a chair scraping, Sehun's Mother getting to her feet to fix him with a glare, skirts ruffling as she struggles to maneuver them around in the small kitchen. "He pays for your lessons now," She says, and her voice is low, threatening. "So if you know what's good for you, my Son, you will treat those in this household with respect. They must not be very good lessons if you've become more rude than when you left."  
  
"My master has taught me a lot, thank you," Sehun says, and it's with a bow -- to his Mother, not Alejandro -- that he turns to take his leave. "Do what you will with me, I'm leaving tomorrow. My carriage driver is staying at an inn in the city so there's no use for me to stick around with, you lot."  
  
"And what will you do, when you show up at your master's home with no pay?"  
  
"He'll let me stay," Sehun says, and he's surprised at the confidence he has in his statement. "He's a good man."  
  
"He's just acting out," Sehun hears his Mother say from down the hall as he searches for his cot. "He's startled by a new presence in the house. Children often act out--"  
  
"He's not a child," Amadeo says, silencing his Mother in a way that has Sehun's blood boiling, has him turning back to the kitchen. She may be blind but Sehun isn't, and he can tell this is not a good man. Marriage for money should never be allowed. "He is a grown man who can deal with himself. We're cutting off his florins."  
  
"Don't talk to my Mother like that, please," Sehun says calmly as he walks back into the kitchen. "She deserves respect from scoundrels like you."  
  
He turns and takes his leave for real after that, not bothering to hear the reply.  
  
  
_i dreamt of you that night too, once i'd realized what i'd done. i was scared, terrified really. you were unattainable still, and i was just a student. who's to say you really would take me back with no money? i shook in my sleep, i cried. i needed the dream catcher._  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
Lu Han heads to the utopia location the day after their talk, leaving Minseok lonely, unsure, scared. He'd said he would join the patrol, and he plans on it, but the nerves are getting to him, the insecurity.  
  
"Don't forget our promise," Lu Han had said before he'd left, after he'd hugged Minseok so tightly, so intimately, his own actions filled with a promise.  
  
And Minseok isn't one to break promises, isn't one to back down from challenges. He finds himself at the patrol station early after rising, nervously loitering outside the door. He doesn't really know anyone on the patrol, any of the security, and that fact alone makes him shaky.  
  
But one must be brave when they live in a world such as theirs, dark and unforgiving, so Minseok swallows down his fear and opens the door, walks inside and up to the shabby front desk; a pile of wood made to be a table, really.  
  
He's unsure of how to even sign up for the patrol, if he needs someone else to bring him in, but Minseok taps on the table quietly and waits, flinches when it echoes. He's slightly relieved when a familiar face comes from the back, large eyes regarding him with confusion before a smile is breaking out.  
  
"I remember you," Jongin says and he's reaching out, shaking Minseok's hand enthusiastically. "You saved the prisoner, Lu Han right?"  
  
"I didn't save him," Minseok says weakly. "I just helped."  
  
"We were the ones that helped," Jongin says with a grin, still holding Minseok's hand awkwardly. "You alerted us, and got him out of danger. I almost wanted you to join the patrol after that. We could use someone like you."  
  
"Well -- I -- that's why I'm here?" Minseok gets out, taken aback by Jongin's overwhelming  _friendliness_. "To ask to join."  
  
Jongin's eyes widen comically, as deep and dark as the skies of Hatharat, before he's nodding, just as enthusiastically as his greeting. "There's no real procedure for it, if you want to," He tells Minseok, bringing him to a back room. "We'd just have to train you. Get you using the hand radios and shooting. Can you aim?"  
  
"Not well," Minseok admits, and he's tossing the radio from one hand to another, fingers nimble. "I've never had much practice in my life."  
  
"I can get you on the ranger tomorrow with Hoseok and Seokjin," Jongin says with a smile, sitting on a box and holding something that looks very dangerous and far too big in his arms. "you're familiar with outside the gates for a civilian so we'll probably station you just outside them for a while. You can be a look out and alert us of any wolves or dangerous tribes too near to the colony."  
  
"Thank you." Minseok says quietly, and he laughs softly. "I wasn't expecting it to be this easy. To tell you the truth Lu Han told me to join -- the prisoner -- and I was scared to do it."  
  
"Don't be," Jongin says with a laugh of his own, just as soft but barking,  _cute._  Minseok could adopt him. "Not much really happens. You showing up all panicked with that tribe on your heels was the most exciting thing that's ever happened besides... the other thing."  
  
And Minseok knows he's referring to the tragedy, bows his head and frowns. "I hope I can help," He says sincerely, smiles lightly.  
  
"of course you can," Jongin grins. "I'm glad to have you."  
  
  
_remember that the first step to achieving a dream is to be brave enough to take it._  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Seoul, South Korea ; Year 2013**  
  
Sehun rescues his laptop in the middle of the night when his parents are asleep, switches his funds over, messages Minseok. He doesn't get an answer but he keeps trying, apologizes, sobs alone in his bed, knees brought up to his chest and nose running.  
  
"Please," He says to no one in particular, to the ceiling, to his dresser, to the partially open door, to the dream catcher by the window, the one that feels hollow and pointless.  
  
Sehun tries calling Minseok, but it goes straight to voicemail, straight to Minseok’s cheerful, accented English telling him to try again please.  
  
He doesn't forget to put the laptop back though, crawling into bed to cry himself to sleep, to repeat the cycle he's started. Regret, upset, in need of Minseok, Minseok, Minseok.  
  
Sehun is terrified that Minseok won't take him back, that Minseok won't forgive him, won't forgive his fear, his cowardry actions. He'll go to Canada now, he'll go to Minseok and knock on his door and stay.  
  
And Sehun knows it's reckless, knows that Minseok deserves more than an insecure, clingy nobody who can't stand up for their love.  
  
He thinks it's too late, it's probably too late, but Sehun tries again, messages Minseon with still no answer.  
  
He panics, loads up the airline website for another ticket, a new ticket leaving tomorrow. Desperate and reckless and ridiculous but Sehun is nothing if not loyal, attached, in love.  
  
Sehun doesn't have another chance after this, doesn't have any more life savings to pour into Minseok, to pour into his own sanity, his own unhappiness knowing his Mother will never accept what he is. And Sehun knows, he knows that Minseok will and Minseok has.  
  
Minseok would want him to stand up for himself, but Minseok would also understand the pressure of Sehun’s family, and Minseok will forgive him, will love him.  
  
Sehun hopes.  
  
He packs quietly, carefully, a small carry on bag, his phone, the laptop, some cash from the jar in the kitchen, the one his Mother thinks she hides well but really doesn't.  
  
And it's been awhile since Sehun has been out in the Seoul streets this late, been a wall since the darkness of the sky held him close and the quiet sounds of a city always awake served as a lullaby.  
  
He can hear a cricket as he walks, can hear the ticking of a click through someones open window, hollow and loud I'm the dead silence of night. He can hear a few cars in the distance, can hear a night bird chirp, musical from somewhere close.  
  
Sehun can hear his own heart beating a beat too fast, too loud, too hard in his chest as his shoes scrape against the gravel; he’s always been one to shuffle as he walks, much to his Mother’s horror.  
  
The airport isnt that far, only am hours walk, but its late -- nearly 3AM -- and Sehun needs to sleep, needs to toss and turn and fret and worry. he collapses onto a bench, remembers doing this before, when he’d been waiting for Minseok.  
  
Minseok will forgive him when he gets there.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Ventilation Tunnels**  
  
"Why would he say something like that?" Sehun whines from where he's lying on Minseok's cot, staring at the ceiling with an ice pack on his forehead. It would seem silly but Sehun is panicking, still on the verge of tears, still unsure and unfocused.  
  
"Do you think that maybe he's on our side?" Minseok muses from where he's sitting, rickety chair pulled up by the cot, worry on his face as he watches Sehun. "It would make sense. He hasn't caught you as the spy despite being the best tracker, he said something cryptic that sounds a lot like your own mentality."  
  
"But why would he?"  
  
"You've known Lu Han since you were children, yes?" Minseok says logically, tries to make Sehun understand. "Sometimes personal bonds can overcome political ones."  
  
"And what if he is helping," Sehun says then, sits up and looks at Minseok with such side eyes that Minseok worries more, want to coddle him like a small child. "What if he is and we kill him?"  
  
"Such is the art of war," Minseok says, and he's not sure why he says it, juts knows he can't do enough to console Sehun, can't give him the confirmation, the hope he wants right now. He's clearly attached to this Alliance leader, clearly doesn't want him to turn out bad.  
  
"You're always honest," Sehun says in a smaller voice, a quieter one that seems to fade away in the tiny cave room, seems to dance out of Minseok's reach. "You're always honest and yet you're so kind."  
  
"I don't know if I'm that kind," Minseok says in confusion. He's strict, driven, passionate, but he's anything but kind, anything but gentle.  
  
"You are though," Sehun says seriously, and he's at the edge of the cot now, knees touching Minseok's as his hands reach out to grip Minseok's shoulders. "Why are you so beautiful?"  
  
"Are you okay?" Minseok asks, startled by Sehun's actions, startled by the glint in his eye and the way his lips curve up into an almost smile.  
  
"I think I'm ready," Sehun says with a kind of nervous smile, small and unsure.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"You know what," Sehun says, and he's looking at Minseok intently, as if he's the only one in the world. It makes Minseok's heart do a kind of heavy thump, a guilty one. It's not time for what Sehun wants, too sudden, too risky.  
  
"Why so suddenly?" Minseok asks aloud, and he's surprised by how dry his mouth is, how hard it is to say no, how hard it is to reject Sehun's probably brave advances.  
  
"Because we don't know what's going to happen," Sehun says and he sounds even smaller, moves back from Minseok on the cot but still keeps his hands on his shoulders, still grips tightly, nervously as if afraid Minseok will disappear if he lets go. "We don't know if we'll be dead tomorrow or if this will work or if -- I don't know -- and i don't want to miss out on my chance to be with you."  
  
Minseok goes silent, stares at Sehun steadily, assessing, reading, wondering. He leans forward then, reaches out to rest his palm on Sehun's cheek, tilting his jaw slightly for better access before kissing him gently, a light touch of lips against lips. Minseok pulls back and smiles at Sehun, smiles at the shocked look on his face, like he hadn't expected Minseok to do anything besides throw him out.  
  
"Sehun, we can't," Minseok starts, and he's prepared for Sehun to collapse, prepared for an emotional response, but Sehun just quietly deflates, looks at him with unanswered questions in his eyes.  
  
"I thought--" Sehun licks his lips, looks embarrassed, upset, but not panicking, not freaking out, and that's good. "I thought you wanted--"  
  
"I do," Minseok says honestly, getting up from the chair to sit across from Sehun on the cot, wrapping strong hands around his waist to pull him closer, enough so that he's practically on Minseok's lap. "I do, but like you said, we don't know what's going to happen, and I don't want to risk hurting you by doing this to you and not being there anymore."  
  
Minseok gently massages Sehun's sides, looks at him with that same steady gaze, the same one he's looked at him with since the second they met.  
  
"I understand," Sehun says, but he looks at Minseok curiously, steadies his hands once again on Minseok's shoulders. "Can I -- can I hug you? I think I need a hug."  
  
"Of course," Minseok says, hushed and gentle. He pulls Sehun all the way into his lap, smiling when Sehun makes himself smaller, buries his face in Minseok's shoulder and wraps his arms tight around his waist.  
  
"Thank you," Sehun murmurs. "We'll make it out of this, right?"  
  
"We will," Minseok says with a nod, a smile that Sehun can't see. "Of course we will."  
  
  
_and i thought i would go insane, dreaming of the small touches, the quiet heavy gazes that never led anywhere even if they felt like they would. and i thought, 'here i am laying myself bare, with all i am for someone and they've got me on this length of rope'. i was okay with it though. i could handle the pain that came with falling in love with the unattainable._  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
Sehun stops getting calls from Minseok everyday.  
  
She's expected it, isn't too upset, only misses her a fraction. It's just boring with Minseok, boring to walk the streets of New York City, boring to sit in her room reading and doing all the things she doesn't want.  
  
It's boring to sing along to the bad songs on the radio knowing that Minseok isn't there to sing them with her.  
  
Sehun chances calling Minseok for once, pushes in the numbers and waits, nervosu for reasons she can't figure out.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Minseok?"  
  
"Sehun! Oh my Gosh," Minseok chirps into the phone, breathless, cheerful,  _Minseok_. "How are you? I'm surprised you're calling me."  
  
"I missed you," Sehun says into the phone, knees knocking together as she perches at the edge of her bed, too nervous to relax, feeling wrong, anxiety and insecurities telling her that  _yes she forot about you. sorry, loser_. "And I realized we hadn't spoken in a while and you always call me so..."  
  
"I'm so happy to get a call from you," Minseok says, and nothing sounds wrong, nothing sounds out of place. Sehun is just freaking out, too clingy. "I was going to call you tomorrow but I have some time to talk now while Lu Han is out."  
  
"You and Lu Han have been hanging out?" Sehun asks in surprise. Last time they spoke Minseok had still been nervous, too shy to speak to her co-star, too insecure to wonder about the possibilities.  
  
"Yes," Minseok says, and the answer is weirdly enthusiastic, weirdly vague. "We started talking and she's really cool."  
  
"I'm so glad," Sehun says, and she doesn't understand why it feels fake, why she feels fake. She was wrong. She doesn't want them to get together she just wants Minseok back in New York, wants Minseok back with her so she'll never leave their friendship for someone prettier, richer, more talented.  
  
"You'll have to meet her one day," Minseok interrupts her insecure ranting, interrupts her clogged emotions. "She's coming to NYC after the filming to see family and we can all hangout."  
  
"That'll be great," Sehun says, and she feels choked up. She feels like there's something Minseok's not telling her, feels confused. There's a crash on the other end, a curse and a giggle, and Minseok is laughing too.  
  
"Listen Sehunnie, I need to go," Minseok says and she's still laughing, but not at Sehun, not with Sehun, and for some reason it  _hurts_.  
  
"What was that noise?" Sehun asks, confused and concerned. Jealous.  
  
"I'm still on set, and Lu Han got back with coffee and just knocked over a prop," Minseok laughs and that breathy quality is there, the one that makes Sehun feel left out. "I need to get back to filming, I'll call you tomorrow okay?"  
  
"Okay, good luck," Sehun says, cheerful and supportive. "Have fun!"  
  
"Thank you darling."  
  
Sehun knows she's being dumb, knows she's being paranoid, upset. She just misses Minseok, misses their laughter and closeness. What Sehun misses most is Minseok's  _safety_ , the way she protects Sehun by letting her protect herself.  
  
Minseok doesn't call her the next day.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
The carriage ride back to Florence is quiet, the silence heavy as Sehun curls up in the seat, trying not to cry, trying not to panic. He needs to stay with Minseok, can't leave, cant go back and be stuck with his family, stuck with a life he doesn't want.  
  
Sehun has never really thrown a tantrum like that before, has never felt so desperately annoyed that he's lost what he needs over a dislike, but it's nearly impossible for him to show respect for someone like that, impossible for him to allow his Mother to just wilt away for money.  
  
So here he is, back pressed against the cloth of the carriage playing soft melodies in his head to soothe the nerves, to have the calm of possible sleep trickling down his spine. They're moving quickly, intent on getting back to Florence as soon as possible and not have a lot of stops, not need to sleep in expensive inns overnight when they haven't had the full week in Tuscany to recover from travel.  
  
And Sehun had apologized, had chewed his lip until it bled in his nervousness of approaching the driver's door, but the driver had just nodded, had said that this is his job and he will abide to the young master's wishes.  
  
Sehun had wanted to counter, to say that he isn't the master, that his real master would be strong, wouldn't run out on things he doesn't like, isn't a coward, isn't pathetic. Minseok is amazing, talented, smart,  _gorgeous,_ , accepting -- and Sehun -- Sehun isn't enough.  
  
Sehun is just a skinny boy from Tuscany, one without the ability to be good, without the ability to be anything his Mother requests, and he proves it by becoming nothing, by working himself up into such a panic that he feels faint, hands shaking and vision blurring as he passes out in the carriage.  
  
  
_and i remember thinking, i remember thinking, 'i didn't get the five pages written, Minseok will be so disappointed' and its curious that i still fought to impress with my lessons even at the thought of their being none. and don't you think that's a kind of dream too? a kind of wishful need to become something you are not -- or perhaps to become something you always were but never had the courage to become._  
  
  
  
The streets of Florence are quiet as they arrive, a full moon high in the sky as the horses hooves echo loud on the empty stone of the pathways that lead between buildings, between different lives, little snippets of  _something_  going on everyday that Sehun can't see.  
  
He finds it calming as they near the villa, finds himself thinking of the lives of others, of their dreams and passions and needs, the simplicity of some and complications of others. And how deep do they think about the world? How many times do they sit awake late and watch the moon and wonder what it has to say for itself?  
  
And how many of these people have never done that, have never thought about anything besides the day to day live that they live, the cows that need milking, the markets that need running, the food that must be found to feed the lives they created.  
  
Sehun wonders if Minseok thinks about these things, if he picks them apart and argues, if he paints what he sees, ready to teach Sehun how to do the same. And Minseok doesn't take him in, doesn't let him stay, will he take another student? One more eager than Sehun, one that is normal, talented, one that bows to him respectfully and knows how to hold a paintbrush without prompting.  
  
One with a Mother that commands love and not just respect, one with a Father that's strong, and that knows of the world and how to reach it, that knows that his place is by his Family and not on the open road like a wild traveler.  
  
And this new student, what will they think of dreams? What will they think of the strange woven cloth that hangs in the room they'll sleep in -- the room that Sehun has claimed as his own. And will they stand by the door and watch the sky and wonder if it could ever speak back, could ever turn it's colours into volumes of words, of dreams, of  _answers?_  
  
The driver leaves Sehun at the door, doesn't say a word as he commands his horse the opposite direction, perhaps going home to his own family, overjoyed that a husband, a Father, has come home early from a long job in which he'd be away.  
  
It's comforting, if just for a moment, the thought that Sehun's failure could benefit someone else, could help them smile just a little brighter. He wonders if he could do it again, wonders if others would smile because he caused it.  
  
It's a dream that seems more attainable then his current one.  
  
Sehun stands, staring at the wood of the door for a full twenty minutes, feels the dark of the sky at his back and the hush of the city taunting him, willing him,  _knock on the door Sehun._  And he feels like he's here for the first time again except not as bold, not as uncaring, in fact he's shivering, cares too much and just --  
  
Sehun knocks on the door. Braces himself for what's to come, gnaws at his already destroyed lip, feels the tears well up, the pounding of his heart increase. Minseok is probably asleep, panicked to be woken by a knock, something that could surely only mean  _bad_.  
  
When Minseok opens the door he looks tired, hair ruffled by sleep and eyes barely open, but he stands straighter upon seeing Sehun, shakes the sleep from his eyes and beckons him inside. He says nothing until they're seated in the living room, until Sehun's entire body is trembling and the tears are threatening to leap from the ducts of his eyes and onto the carpet.  
  
"Sehun, why are back so early?" Minseok asks, and his voice is heavy with concern, heavy with worry, with something else. "Did something happen?"  
  
Sehun bursts into tears.  
  
He can't help it really, can't help the sobs that wrack his fragile body as he tries to explain, tries to get the words out. And Minseok he understands them, reaches out and pulls Sehun closer.  
  
"Sehun," Minseok says, and his voice is firm, commanding. "You need to calm down."  
  
But Sehun  _can't_  calm down, doesn't know how, and Minseok will surely hate him now, will knock him to the streets now that he's seen what happens when his student -- past student -- breaks, now that he's seen Sehun at his worst.  
  
The unattainable floats further from reach every passing moment.  
Minseok doesn't throw him away, doesn't become angry or even sound disappointed. Instead he just seems concerned and Sehun hates using that word because it makes him feel like a child, like someone unworthy of Minseok;s time --  _you are_ \-- and it hurts more.  
  
"Sehun, darling," Minseok says, and he sounds nearly heartbroken, eyes wider than Sehun has ever seen them. "I would never let you live on the streets."  
  
"But why?" Sehun manages to speak steadily, feels the hiccups of tears, of panic settling into the pit of his stomach, the sinking feeling of how much he fucked up, of how much he  _deserves_  to be thrown away.  
  
"Because I care about you," Minseok says and it's as if he's shocked that he even needs to say such a thing, as if Sehun is aware. Minseok takes his hands then, between his own and holds them as gently as one can, as if Sehun is glass and hes afraid to break him. "You could stay here for free any time you wanted. And you're not pathetic, you're beautiful and your Mother should hold the love for her child above her feelings for anyone else."  
  
Minseok surprises him then, kisses the tips of his fingers in a gesture so soft that Sehun starts crying again, confused and tired and drained. "Let's get you to bed," Minseok says gently, laces their fingers together to bring Sehun down the hall, Sehun walking behind like a ghost.  
  
"We can talk about things tomorrow," Sehun hears Minseok say, but he's drifting from consciousness the moment he's put to bed, the moment he feels Minseok threading fingers through his hair. "I love you."  
  
He's not sure if he imagines Minseok's last words or not.  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
Sehun returns to the colony three days after Minseok signs up for the patrol. He's ecstatic about Minseok's new job, beams and smiles and tells Minseok he's gotten hotter.  
  
"You hold guns and stuff now," Sehun says with a grin. "Of course I'm going to feel something."  
  
And yet even as they're nestled warm into each other's arms, something feels off.  
  
  
_it's the most difficult thing to say what feels the most right to us, to let the emotions we feel just wash over us without guilt, without the complications that come with others thoughts, others feelings. and yet its the most rewarding to take others into consideration to feel the joy, the satisfaction that comes from knowing that i am a good person. and master agrees now, agrees that i never was bad but i am better and he says that he's better too._  
  
It's when Minseok sees the tears in the corners of Sehun's eyes, the ones that are there but don't fall, hidden by Sehun, that he starts to worry.  
  
"Sehun, are you okay?" Minseok asks, and he's pulling back from their embrace, hands immediately going to Sehun's belly, to rest gently, the worst case scenario already emerging through the crevices of his mind.  
  
"We promised to never lie to each other, right?" Sehun says quietly, a whisper really, a voice Minseok rarely hears. It has him sitting up straighter, has his hands settling at Sehun's waist to rub careful circles, soothing ones.  
  
"You can tell me anything," Minseok reassures him, looks at him with sincerity, love.  
  
"Remember when I spoke of loving more than one person?" Sehun begins, and Minseok immediately knows where it's going, can't stop the spark of  _hope_  in his heart, the spark of want for what he thinks it is. "And you said it was normal?"  
  
"It is," Minseok agrees, makes sure to be clear on it.  
  
"I think I like Lu Han," Sehun says and he looks so guilty that Minseok's heart nearly breaks, nearly caves in two because Sehun doesn't deserve guilt, doesn't deserve anything but calm and happiness with utopia, with his child, with the dystopia of their colony. "He kissed me and I love  _you_  and it feels wrong but not and I don't want to hurt you --"  
  
"I like him too baby," Minseok interrupts, takes the chance to say what's been on his mind. "So that makes two of us."  
  
"And does he like you?" Sehun asks, eyes saucers, mouth open in shock. "What do we--"  
  
"I'm not angry with you," Minseok says first, makes sure Sehun knows, needs to make sure Sehun always knows that Minseok is never angry with him, that they are perfect and that Sehun is his and so what if someone else is  _theirs_.  
  
"I've been upset for days," Sehun says, looking at the blankets between them, at Minseok's hands and not his face. "I thought we'd be over and you would never speak to me and utopia would be broken."  
  
"Nothing will be broken," Minseok says. "I've always thought of poly as somewhat of a miracle."  
  
"What do you mean?" Sehun asks softly, and he looks calmer now, still in shock with Minseok's reaction, with his confession that he too, has grown to like Lu Han.  
  
"It's difficult enough for two person to mutually fall in love," Minseok explains, and he smiles when he sees the dream catcher twinkle out of the corner of his eye, thinks about Lu Han and his dreams, his dreams of a missing piece. "So isn't it not amazing when it happens with three?"  
  
"And the baby? Al the years we've spent together," Sehun asks, scared, tentative. "Will Lu Han not feel left out, confused?"  
  
"You know him well enough at this point, I think," Minseok says confidently. "Enough to know that he isn't that type of person."  
  
"No, he's not," Sehun says quietly. "I'm still guilty. How do I stop it."  
  
"With patience," Minseok prods gently. "With patience and with hard work. The utopia walls are nearly completed are they not? Our future is becoming real and here you are worried because a cute boy that isn't me kissed you."  
  
"Our love is more important than any dome of life," Sehun says genuinely, solemn in the flickering light of their candles.  
  
"And even the strongest loves can not flourish in darkness," Is what Minseok says back, and he too is solemn. "Now sleep. We'll talk with Lu Han tomorrow before you return to utopia."

 

  
_and sometimes, the things you've been waiting for -- and the ones that you hadn't know could exist -- happen too quickly. they come out of nowhere and they seem out of place. if i have spent months to fall in love, or to write something or to create what i need, how could someone else do the same so quickly? and how could it be so easy for them when it was so difficult for me. master says that the slow build up of life is quicker for some, and that they choose to run, rather than walk._  

 

 

  
_"Nothing makes it hard to breathe,  
like being in your company."_

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg ; Year 2013**  
  
  
The last thing Minseok expects is too see Sehun at his front door, suitcase at his feet and eyes looking dangerously close to tears. And yet the scene feels familiar for some reason, as if he's experienced it before, long ago.  
  
Sehun's hands are clasped together, and he looks close to fainting, swaying on his feet and staring at Minseok in silence.  _desperation does silly things, you know_  
  
"Can I come in?" Sehun asks weakly, stutters and trails off, looks at his feet and the tears do start spilling, tiny sobs that feel just as tired as Sehun sounds.  
  
"Sehun, why are you here? How are you here?" Minseok asks in a panic, and his arms are around in a second, trying to figure it out, worry coursing through his veins, through his thoughts. "Why didn't you answer my Skype messages? What happened."  
  
"You didn't  _mine_ ," Sehun sobs, and he looks desperate, embarrassed. "My Mother forced me to break up with and I didn't want to but I got my laptop back and when you didn't answer I just reacted and I used my savings and I came to beg you."  
  
Minseok can't help the way his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up in his hair, can't help the way his grip tightens around Sehun's wrist as he leads him carefully to his bedroom. Minseok stays silent for quite a while, trying to figure out just what to say, just how to fix the mess that neither of them caused.  
  
He wraps Sehun in his blankets, builds the nest that Sehun is too busy crying, climbs inside and wraps it around both of them. It's childish, but childish comforts are often the most important, often the ones that help the most, and Minseok waits; he waits until Sehun stops crying, waits until he's shaking with sniffles, body curled into Minseok's.  
  
"You caught a plane to across an ocean just beg me to take you back?" Minseok asks slowly, still in disbelief, trying to wrap his head around Sehun being here, Sehun in his arms, Sehun scared and shaking and upset.  
  
"I also did it to leave," Sehun says when he finally stops sniffling, when he's gone still and sleepy in Minseok's hold, in the nest that they've wrapped around them. "It was either dump you or live in the streets and I refused to do neither."  
  
"Well if you think I would stop loving you just because you got scared," Minseok starts, carefully picking his words because Sehun is fragile right now, Sehun is just calming and he doesn't want to make it worse, always wants to make it better. "You're silly. Because I love you no matter what."  
  
"Even if I had listened, even if I hadn't done something stupid would you just still love me?"  
  
"I would love you even if you stopped loving me back." Minseok says, and he knows it's the truth. Knows that he belongs to Sehun even if Sehun doesn't belong to him.  
  
"What do I do now?" Sehun asks, and he looks confused, more desperate than before. "I shouldn't be here what do I do?"  
  
"You stay," Minseok with a shrug, and he surprises himself with how easily he agrees. "I'm not sending you back to live with her."  
  
"And school?"  
  
"Did you cancel your application?" Minseok asks. "Because if you haven't it should be fine."  
  
"I was supposed to," Sehun murmurs. "But I just pretended to."  
  
"There you go," Minseok says, and he puts a cheerful edge to his voice, upbeat and hopeful. "Think of this as the path you were going to take, you just got here early."  
  
"Can I sleep?" Sehun whispers, burrow further into Minseok and ends up half lying down, half sitting. "Can I sleep and I can regret in the morning?"  
  
"Of course you can sleep baby boy," Minseok says in a gentle voice. He settles them into the bed and wraps a blanket around them both, kisses Sehun slowly, tenderly, tongue slipping inside to soothe its way around Sehun's mouth, to make him sigh and relax.  
  
"I love you," Sehun says when Minseok pulls back. "Thank you."  
  
"I love you too," Minseok assures him, pulls him close. "Always."  
  
"No matter how crazy I am?" Sehun whispers, fingers curling into the front of Minseok's shirt.  
  
"Always," Minseok repeats, and he means it.

 

 

╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Sky City**  
  
"The bombs are set to detonate in five hours, sir," A voice crackles across Minseok's radio, startling Sehun out of his thoughts. They're sitting at Sehun's table, waiting for the call, waiting for their chance to hide Sehun, keep him out of the way when the explosives go off.  
  
"They'll know it's me," Sehun murmurs suddenly, shocking himself with the revelation, something he hadn't thought, hadn't realized. "When I'm not at the banquet and the bombs go off in that moment they'll know. What if they survive and--"  
  
"I'll protect you," Minseok cuts him off, and Sehun is always surprised by him, always confused.  
  
"Will you?" Sehun asks, and he's partially convinced, memory on how he'd stayed with Minseok, laid in his bed innocently. And Minseok's words, his promises and his quiet, calm rejection of Sehun's advances, thinking of him -- only him.  
  
A knock interrupts, Minseok stiffening in his chair as Sehun rises to answer it, only barely concealing the shaking of his limbs.  
  
It's Jongdae, and he looks more on edge than Sehun feels, bursting into the room for Minseok. "Hyung, there might be something wrong," He pants, breathing heavy and eyes wild. "There was a string of explosive devices that malfunctioned and we had them set off to the side but--"  
  
"The working ones are still in the tunnels?" Minseok finishes for him, quietly, and Sehun as usual, is struck with Minseok's ability to stay level, calm even in the worst case scenarios. "What kind of malfunction, Jongdae?"  
  
"The explosion radius is programmed to be much larger in the malfunctioned ones," Jondgae explains in a panic, though he visibly calms when Minseok gently seats him in a chair. Sehun wonders if Minseok just has that effect on people, can calm anyone. "So there'll be civilian casualties. A lot of them."  
  
"Is this a sacrifice we can handle?" Minseok asks, and though he still sounds calm, Sehun can see his irises shake, can see his fingers twitch the slightest amount. Sehun, unsure of what to do, sits down quietly back into his own seat, beside Minseok and listens.  
  
"It'll make it harder for us to gain favour," Jongdae says with a frown. "We can expose the existence of the Floor Sector, but what will we do when they believe fully in the Alliance? Killing civilians means and leaving Alliance leaders--"  
  
"There will still be an Alliance leader," Sehun interrupts, and he's honestly surprised everyone seems to have forgotten. "The son of the one in charge."  
  
"Ah," Jongdae says, and Minseok blinks. "I wasn't aware you had leader status."  
  
"I'm an Oh," Sehun says simply. "Whether I had status or not I'd be the most important figure to the people left. I can attempt to sway them best I can after this is over, since there's no time to gather information that would hurt the Alliance."  
  
"Oh Sehun, fighting for the people of the Floor Sector in the name of the Sky," Minseok says and he's got a calm smile on his face, the look of someone who's just recovered from an anxiety attack.  
  
And Sehun wonders if Minseok ever truly expresses the emotions he feels.  
  
_do you ever feel like you should be someone? like you could be important, love, feared even? and it's weird for you to think of it because you're next to the most important person, the one with the charisma and the knowledge to be someone, and yet ... you want to._  
  
A noise interrupts them before Sehun can answer, a deep rumble of thunder that starts slow, and grows louder, louder. Jongdae's head snaps up, and so does Minseok's and this time, this time Minseok can't hide the shock that flies across his face, the wide eyed panic.  
  
"That's not supposed to happen, is it?" Sehun asks in a weak voice, and the way Jongdae pales tells him what he needs to know, the way Minseok leaps to his feet and runs to the door, panting and out of breath.  
  
Sehun follows him, steps tentatively towards the window where Minseok is staring across the city, unblinking, unmoving, terror coursing through every twitch of his body. And when Sehun looks through after him, stands next to him, he gulps down his fear in favour of something much worse, a bubbling desperation that starts low in his stomach and catches in his throat.  
  
The city is on fire.

 

 

  
⚘

 

 

 

  
_We are all but recent leaves on the same old tree of life and if this life has adapted itself to new functions and conditions, it uses the same old basic principles over and over again. There is no real difference between the grass and the man who mows it. ~Albert Szent-Györgyi_

 

 

 

  
⚘

  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
**UP AND COMING CELEBRITY, KIM MINSEOK CAUGHT WITH SUPPOSED GIRLFRIEND LU HAN IN THEIR HOTEL BY PAPPARAZI, ADMITS SHE'S GAY.**  
  
Sehun wonders if that's why Minseok hasn't called.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
And when Sehun can’t sleep -- feels lonely in the early hours of the morning – he sneaks down the hallway and into Minseok’s room, crawls in beside him and under the blanket. He thinks that maybe the great unattainable is attainable if only for a moment when Minseok doesn’t complain, turns over half asleep to slide his arms around Sehun’s waist.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- before utopia**  
  
  
Minseok wonders what it’s like to kiss Lu Han also, kneels by Lu Han’s cot while he’s still asleep, brushes a thumb across his lower lip. Lu Han wakes up slowly, blinks at Minseok through the haze of his slumber in confused.  
  
Minseok reaches out, curls his fingers into Lu Han’s hair and pulls him forward for the most chaste of kisses, the briefest touch of moist lips to sleep dry ones, gets up and walks away without an explanation.  
  
Lu Han lies awake for quite a long time afterwards, quiet smile on his lips and warmth fluttering through his heart.  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅲ☯╮

  
  
  
**Canada, Winnipeg ; Year 2013**  
  
  
  
“Do you know, Manitoba Hall?”  
  
Sehun is tentative as he approaches the friendliest looking boy he can find on campus, nervous to speak in his accented, bad English. The boy is pretty, long eyelashes and side swept hair a golden brown, eyes large and lips lush.  
  
Sehun could have a crush on him if he didn’t already have Minseok.  
  
“I can take you there?” The boy says with a smile, one that has the corners of his eyes crinkling, his own voice accented. Sehun wonders if they could be friends.  
  
“Th-thank you,” Sehun gets out, ignores the hammering in his heart. He wishes Minseok could have taken him through all his classes, wishes Minseok could hold his hand through every step of life, but Sehun is an adult too.  
  
“Can I perhaps,” The boy pauses, grins bashfully and scratches the back of his neck. “I know I’m being too forward and you’re probably straight, but you’re really good-looking and—“  
  
“I have a boyfriend,” Sehun says, interrupts before the boy can finish, feeling guilty at the way his face immediately falls. “I’m sorry, we can,” He struggles with his sentence, gesturing with his hands. “Friend?”  
  
“That would be nice,” The boy says, and his smile is more hopeful now, less devastated. “I’m Lu Han.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, Lu Han,” Sehun bows out of habit, stumbles over his English. “I hope to know you well.”  
  
  
_the missed opportunities, the missed dreams that you can never remember, the ones that you see in waking life and don’t realize them for what they are, those are the real tragedies of this world. and why? because you don’t understand that they exist, don’t know what you’re missing out on, what missing link should be there but isn’t. and that’s why we as people, try over and over again – whether it be one lifetime or many – for that happiness we can’t quite seem to grasp.  
  
we often miss it in the crowd, or right under our noses, and yet we still dream about it. _  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Sky City**  
  
  
“It’s spreading underground,” Jongdae chokes as he looks past MInseok and Sehun, feels the panic that he can’t help, the shrillness of his voice. “Our entrance from the garden is aflame.”  
  
“And the other bombs?” Minseok asks. “Are they to detonate soon as well?”  
  
“The fumes from this one will set them off, a succession,” Jongdae says shakily, paces and panics. “The Alliance leaders, they’ll be taken care of, but this entire section of the city is in danger.”  
  
“The civilian casualties will be much more than we thought.” Sehun whispers, and Jongdae wonders if he’s mourning already, if he feels the same disjointed pain, a hatred for the Alliance but a love for their city, even if Jongdae himself comes from the Ground. “We’ll need to leap from one of the edge gates. Find an air duct and land straight in the Floor Sector.”  
  
“Do you know where that is?” Minseok asks in a panicked voice, and it makes Jongdae tremble, knowing that Minseok is worried, that Minseok thinks there might be a chance they won’t survive.  
  
“I think so,” Sehun says, and though he doesn’t sound convinced, they all know it’s the best chance they have.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
"Your insistence," Minseok says as they sit on his bed, as Sehun looks away shyly, embarrassed by his bravery, by his clinginess and cowardice, needing to sleep in another's embrace like a small, scared child. "Your insistence that you somehow pay to stay here even with me saying you won't, tells me a lot about who you've become."  
  
And Sehun is nearly too tired for this kind of talk right now, eyelids drooping and entire body sagging, cup of tea in his hands nearly tipping, but he listens.  
  
"You've grown more than I thought," Minseok muses, and there's something  _small_  about Minseok as they sit like this. As if he's been on a pedestal for too long and is sitting side by side with Sehun as a mortal for the first time ever. And Sehun wonders if it's because Minseok has told him he's now his mentor, as opposed to master and teacher, someone to guide him, rather than someone for Sehun to learn from with his money.  
  
"In what way?" Sehun tries, asks. He finishes his tea and rolls over onto his side, not caring for once that he's being childish, that he's acting like a pet and not a person.  
  
"If you act like that I can't take my words seriously," Minseok frowns, pokes his side. Sehun giggles, squirming at the touch and sits up again, hugging a pillow to his chin as he struggles to stay away. "I'll let you sleep after this, I want to make sure that you know you're allowed to stay here, and that I respect you."  
  
"I thought I was the one required to do the respecting," Sehun mumbles, raises an eyebrow at Minseok over his pillow.  
  
"You are," Minseok says, but his tone is playful, mouth quirking into a tiny smirk. "Life is about mutual respect. There are different kinds of respect."  
  
"And what if something transcends respect into something more?" Sehun asks, sudden and vague.  
  
"We usually call that loving something." Minseok says, nodding to himself. "And you can have respect without love, but you cannot love something if you don't respect it."  
  
"And there are different kinds of love?" Sehun continues, questions. He's deflected the conversation, steered Minseok from himself to speaking in general, that same eager curiosity in his voice that he hopes shows the respect he wants Minseok to get.  
  
"Of course," Minseok says, and his smirk becomes a smile, the warm one that Sehun always wants sent his way. "And none of them are higher than the other, at least in my opinion."  
  
"I think I feel more than respect for you," Sehun says, and he's the one staring steadily at Minseok for once, the unattainable being shocked. "I don't know in what way though."  
  
"You do," Minseok responds calmly, side stepping his shock nicely and continuing on.  
  
Sehun supposes he does know, but he's too afraid to voice it out loud, hopes Minseok understands.  
  
"I know too," Minseok says, and he's pulling the pillow away from Sehun, moving closer to him on the bed. "Though we can discuss that once you've slept more."  
  
"And do you feel more than simple respect for me?" Sehun asks as he lies back down, as he wraps himself in Minseok's and breathes in his quiet floral scent.  
  
"Of course I do," Minseok says with a gentle smile, a caress of Sehun's cheek that promises more, that promises something attainable. "I have for a while."  
  
  
_there's something to be said, about being in love. something to be said about it's many weaving emotions and the strength of it. and some people, they hate love. hate how everything and anything is about it, and yet, what would we as human beings do without it? in any form, in any expression and version of love -- friendship, familial, romantic, that kind of platonic love that leaps bounds above everything else -- it's something crucial, something important. i believe that loving your dreams is the only way to truly make them come true. because what is a dream without a reason?"_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Pal-Hatharat, Year unkown -- utopia**  
  
  
The same day that utopia is completed, Lu Han hands them both dream catchers.  
  
"For good luck," He says sullenly, bows his head and grins, radiant and beautiful in the bright sunlight of the enclosed dome. "So that you'll both have good dreams. I know you already have one but it seems important to me."  
  
"It is important," Minseok tells him, stares at him in some kind of awe. "I saw my dream catcher in a dream you know. Saw all of the past lives me and Sehun might have had."  
  
"I had dreams like that also," Lu Han tells them both, and he seats them down in the grass of utopia, still empty as Sehun's team conducts the last tests, works Sehun's magic into the air around them. "Except I was on the outside looking in, and sometimes with you but not in the proper way."  
  
"What do you mean?" Sehun asks, and he shifts uncomfortable in the grass, holds his back and winces. He's getting bigger now, ready to pop, and Minseok feels anticipation, excitement.  
  
("I'm so proud of you," He'd cried into Sehun's shirt earlier, too emotional to think, to breathe, and Lu Han had watched with a small smile on his face, as if he knew that even with the tentative acceptance of him in their circle, this was not a moment for him. "You've saved us all and it's done and--"  
  
"And you're more emotional than me for once," Sehun had replied, and he'd told Minseok that they had time for pride and celebrations later, after they'd finally spoken, finally brought Lu Han to sit with them, to discuss their future.)  
  
"In the first dream I never saw Minseok but I saw you." Lu Han says, and he's addressing Sehun, eyes shining. "You were dressed fancily and buying bread and our eyes connected but I never saw you again."  
  
"Fancily?"  
  
"Colourful and strange," Lu Han muses. "Like nothing I'd ever seen before. All the dreams were."  
  
"The bright land with the river," Minseok says, and he feels confident their dreams are connected, wonders if the energy of Kal-Hath has been at work for many centuries. "And all of the buildings and music and colours."  
  
Lu Han nods, smiles, seeming happy that Minseok understands. "In the second dream we were all girls, and I knew you two but something was off I think," He says with a frown. "I remember the one part of the dream I overheard that I was special but not as special as you two were to each other."  
  
"I'm sorry," Sehun says sincerely, eyes widening as if he's insulted Lu Han by his very existence.  
  
"In the third one I only met Sehun once again," Lu Han continues, addresses Minseok now, doesn't answer Sehun's apology but gives him a gaze full of stars, the kind that only Lu Han can give. And Minseok wonders for a moment if Lu Han could be a teacher for utopia, with his soothing voice and well-put words. He  _is_  good with the children. "He was lost and I remember I wanted him but he already had someone. I'll assume it was you."  
  
"And the fourth?" Minseok asks, curious. "If there was one."  
  
"In the fourth I felt important," Lu Han says, and he's looking at their sky, squinting in the brightness of the artificial sun, of the clouds that slide across the ceiling. "There was a city in the sky and you were both in danger, but I had a dream catcher and I helped, and i didn't survive but I was important."  
  
"You're important now," Sehun says, and he takes one of Lu Han's hands in his own, gazes at him with the same kind of look he gives Minseok, the  _I love you, take care of me_  one.  
  
"I agree," Minseok says, and he takes Lu Han's other hand, bows to him, and he too gazes at Lu Han, though he's not sure what kind of look is in his own eyes. And it feels formal, strange, but right.  
  
Minseok wonders if he still remembers the ritual of the Dal-Sath, the adding of someone under a Dal-Path who already has his soulmate at his side.  
  
"I don't--" Lu Han frowns, looks away. "It feels fixed this time and yet I've barely been here long. I don't want to impose on your lives."  
  
"You're not," Minseok says gently, squeezes Lu Han's hand and smiles as brightly as he can. He feels warm in the dome, warm in utopia and it's taking a lot of him to focus on the serious task at hand when all he wants to do is dance in the grass.  
  
"You're not," Sehun echoes, and he does dance in the grass, leaps to his feat and drags Minseok and Lu Han up with him, twirls them around. "Look around us, we have everything now and soon we'll be filled with the people from the colony and we can prosper, be wonderful."  
  
Sehun pauses then, pants with the effort of dancing, looks like sunshine in bare feet and a loose tunic. "All of us, and the child, when they're born, and we'll have our perfect triangle," He laughs then, and that's like sunshine also. "Minseok did say he likes triangles the best."  
  
"And perhaps one day I'll have a child of my own," Lu Han says wistfully, and he steps forward to touch Sehun's stomach, looks up at him with shimmering eyes. He laughs when Sehun pokes his nose, looks younger than all three of them, and Minseok can't help but think that's sunshine also.  
  
"Minseok, hyung," Sehun says then, walks over to Minseok and takes his hands, bends down to kiss his nose gently. "The team and I decided something."  
  
"What's that?" Minseok asks in surprise, unaware that Sehun's team that worked on utopia even knew who he was.  
  
"We want you to name utopia," Sehun says and he waves his hands at the beauty that surrounds them, the half built buildings and the trees that sway with fake energy. "Because in the end you're the real reason all of this exists. My pillar."  
  
And Minseok, he can't possibly live with this much pressure, can't possibly consider himself that special, but he thinks of the dream catchers and he thinks of Lu Han's stories of dreams. And it comes to him, clear and beautiful.  
  
"Florence," Minseok says with a smile, feels the wind hit his face and the sun shining down on him. Feels Sehun next to him and Lu Han on the other side and he knows that they've done it this time -- even if he doesn't quite understand what it means. "I'll name it Florence. “  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Sky Sector-- Year 4063, Sky City**  
  
Amidst the fire of the Sky City, amidst the screams and the chaos, the giant screen outside the crumbled main Alliance building crackles to life, wires shrieking as the pillars it stands on threaten to fall.  
  
The leaders are gone, perished with their building and Sehun thinks that despite it all, despite the mess they need to fix, the job he has, they've accomplished their original goal. And Sehun, despite it all, despite the danger he and Minseok are currently in, the flames licking up around his villa as Jongdae disappears to find his husband, pauses.  
  
A voice rings clear over the Sky Sector, familiar and soothing, like honey dripping slowly.  
  
"The Alliance you know has lied to you," The voice says and Sehun stares, stares at the pretty face that smiles gently from the cracked screen, feels Minseok's grip loosen on his arm as he listens, watches also. "If this is playing it means that the Syndicate has won. It means that the Ground dwellers you all believe to be dead, perished in the dust storms are rising once again to claim their place in the sky with the rest."  
  
"So he was on our side," Minseok mutters, and Sehun can feel them coming, can the feel the tears streaming down his face, warm and salty on his tongue as Lu Han continues his displays the wrongdoings of the Alliance to the entire Sky Sector.  
  
"Dreams are something to be cherished, and the Ground dwellers have a dream of breathing clean air, of being up high with everyone else, with the rest of the world where they deserve to be," Lu Han continues, and he's holding a tiny dream catcher, voice sure and steady in the recording. "You may have been told your entire life not to look down, but I want you to do that today. Look down, see the truth under your nose, and listen to Oh Sehun."  
  
Sehun's eyes widen at Lu Han's words, and just for a moment it feels as though a section of the city isn't burning around them, as though it's just him and Lu Han, children laughing as they run through back alleys, teenagers curiously tossing things from the edge of the city into the air ducts, young adults growing apart as they're thrown into separate roles, thrown into the deadly grip of the Oh power, of the Alliance.  
  
It's only when the screen goes dark, when the screams erupt in Sehun's ears, and Minseok tugs on his arm that Sehun returns to reality, that he turns his head slowly and looks at Minseok directly.  
  
And then they're running, stumbling over rocks and bodies and rubble, hands clasped and feet desperate.  
  
"Which way," Minseok yells, and he's turning on the spot, staring at Sehun in desperation.  
  
Sehun almost can't tell where they are, almost can't see through the smoke, but he knows his city well, and he remembers as well as he can, leads the way to the edge of the city, past the electric fences to where the wind whips around them, where the ground seems too far away.  
  
He pales, hesitates and steps back, unsure, scared.  
  
"Sehun," Minseok calls out, cups his cheeks, his jaw, with both hands and looks up at him seriously. "We're going to need to jump, and you're going to need to trust me. Do you trust me?"  
  
"As much as I can trust anyone," Sehun says, and his words swim in his own ears, ringing from the blasts.  
  
"Good," Minseok says with a smile, and he's leading them close to the edge; so close that Sehun can see the gravel beneath their feet crumble and fall to get swept up in the air duct. And it's not him and Lu Han throwing things, it's him and Minseok, ready to leap for their lives in a jump they may not make alive.  
  
"I'm going to need you to take your Father's advice," Minseok tells him slowly, grips Sehun's hand tightly, and tugs him forward sharply once, turning them to face the empty sky in front of them without looking back.  
  
"What advice?" Sehun croaks, and he's never been this afraid of heights before, but he's crying, in shock, Lu Han's voice still ringing through his ears.  
  
"Don't look down," Minseok whispers in his ear, before he tugs one last time and they fall off the edge off the city and into the sky.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
  
Minseok calls Sehun two weeks after the deadlines; three weeks since the last time she's called. It's short, just Minseok being distracted, laughing, telling Sehun she misses her and that filming ends in a month.  
  
It's lonely without Minseok, and Sehun feels lied to and betrayed, feels like Minseok's gone back on her promise, and she knows she's being selfish, knows she's being over dramatic but she can't help it.  
  
Sehun's never really been as close to anyone as Minseok before and it  _hurts_  to feel ignored,  _hurts_  to feel replaced. Sehun decides she hates Lu Han, hates this girl that's stolen Minseok's attention away, and even though a part of Sehun, a rational part tells her that movies are consuming, that Minseok is busy all the time with her  _job_ , it feels nice to have someone to blame.  
  
She sleeps easier with someone to blame for her insecurities.  
  
  
_do you ever get lonely even while you're surrounded by people? you don't want to be, and you want to be strong, want to let yourself shine and yet that one person, that one dream is so far away from you and that's all you want, it's all you want and there's no way or you to get to them._  
  
  
The next time Minseok calls Sehun it's to say she's home.  
  
"I'm back at my condo," She says excitably over the phone, and Sehun is grateful for once that she's close, grateful for the lack of a crackle on the receiver. The soaring of her heart is dampened right away however. "And I've brought Lu Han with me."  
  
And yet Sehun finds herself on the Subway to Minseok's, finds herself in an elevator she's been in many times before, finds herself knocking on the door and smiling pleasantly at the girl who answers.  
  
She's pretty.  
  
"Sehun," She hears a scream, has two second to adjust before she's been tackled to the floor and has a lapful of very excited Minseok. "I missed you."  
  
And suddenly, even with the object of her jealously and resentment in the room, even with her pent up feelings of loneliness, Sehun is okay again.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
  
"I used to write you know," Minseok comments, sitting down next to Sehun and handing him a cup of tea, placing a bowl of neatly chopped vegetables in front of them. Sehun looks up from where he's been scrawling across a page, writing his book of dreams in the early evening chill with curiosity in his eyes, pen stilling as he prepares to listen.  
  
"What kind of things did you write?" Sehun asks, and he likes the way their voices sound on the balcony, the way his words seem to bounce right off the air and back to him.  
  
"Strange things," Minseok says with a chuckle, popping a carrot into his mouth with a kind of lazy grin. There's something different about him tonight, like he's stalling something important, a crackle of tension rippling through the calm atmosphere. "There was one about a city in the sky that floats on nothing but air, and another about a great metal bird with wings, one that flew and took a boy to see his lover."  
  
"And did they have happy endings?" Sehun asks, because he needs to know, because he loves happy endings, craves them.  
  
"They did," Minseok says and his lazy grin doesn't fade even while he chews, while he speaks. "I believe in happy endings."  
  
"I hope my story has a happy ending," Sehun says, and he wonders if Minseok knows what he writes about, knows past the things he's shown him.  
  
"It all depends on whether you let it," Minseok tells him, and instead of sitting in the other chair he fits him next to Sehun, too close on the small white bench. "Do you want your story to have a happy ending?"  
  
"Yes, of course I do," Sehun says with a nod, and he glances sideways at Minseok, finds himself frozen for a moment staring at his profile, at the way his lips glisten.  
  
"You're the one writing it," Minseok says quietly, and the way he shifts to face Sehun is familiar; the same way he's always done, eyes gazing into his with the same intensity they always have. "Only you can decide."  
  
"Help me then," Sehun says bravely, takes a chance and faces Minseok directly, paper and pen places on the table beside him. "Give me my happy ending."  
  
"I turn thirty-four tomorrow," Minseok says suddenly, and Sehun wants to pout, wants to scream for his ruined moment, his ruined chance, but he's stubborn and knows what he wants now, knows how to get it.  
  
"And I turn twenty-one in less than a month," Sehun counters, and he's not sure why he says it, but it does suddenly make him more aware of their differences. And yet he doesn't care, just knows that there are three things in this world he cares most about, that he wants.  
  
The first being his dreams, and the cultivation of them, the creation of his future and what he sees in the moon while asleep. The second is a full female wardrobe, skirts and long dresses and beautiful cuff links. The third is Minseok, and Sehun isn't afraid to reach out and obtain what once seemed unattainable.  
  
"And if I were to kiss you now," Minseok says in a low voice, one full of promise and a kind of want Sehun has always wanted to hear. "Would that make us the most scandalous couple in Florence?"  
  
"We could be the most scandalous couple in all of Italy," Sehun says, and he's proud of himself for the way his voice doesn't shake, the way he manages to keep his hands still.  
  
  
There's really no warning before Minseok does kiss him, before soft lips attach themselves to Sehun's own with such feeling that he thinks he may implode, thinks his legs would give out if he were standing. And Minseok, he doesn't hold back when he kisses, doesn't waste time before he's nipping at Sehun's bottom lip, coaxing his mouth open to slip his tongue inside, fingers gripping Sehun's jaw, other hand resting around his waist to tug him closer.  
  
Sehun arches into him, gasping into Minseok's mouth as he tries to keep up; he doesn't know where to put his hands, doesn't know how to react, how to properly kiss Minseok back. Minseok is gentle though, guides Sehun and tilts his head as he kisses him deeper, tongue pressing to the roof of Sehun's mouth, twisting with his own before sliding across his teeth.  
  
Minseok pulls away just as gently, tugging gently on Sehun's lip with his teeth in a way that has Sehun whining and pressing forward, not wanting it to end as his fingers curl tightly into Minseok's tunic. He's panting heavily, pupils blown and lips flushed red and swollen, and Minseok is smiling at him, not lazy grin anymore but a smirk, one that has a shiver going down Sehun's spine.  
  
"I'll be going to my room," Minseok says with a sigh, and as his hand trails it's way from Sehun's jaw to the collar of his tunic it's like an electric current, tiny sparks wherever his fingers touch. "Would you care to join me?"  
  
  
_and the best part of a dream, the best part is when you hold it in your hands and it's yours and you know it's yours because your dream has dreamt of you too._  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅴ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, year unknown; after utopia**  
  
Sehun goes into labour suddenly, when the citizens are still moving into Florence and the hospital is not yet complete. Minseok is freaking out, pacing back and forth outside the room as their healer assists them.  
  
Lu Han is with him, basically attached to his arm with a look of genuine worry in his eyes when Minseok actually starts praying to Kal-Hath, disjointed words from long ago that he barely remembers, little pieces of his childhood coming to play in a time of paranoia.  
  
"He'll be fine," Lu Han says weakly, and Minseok wants to laugh because he's so bad at this, terrible at reassurance and yet comforting, body heat calming his shaking nerves, warm touch of his fingers on the skin of Minseok's arm stilling the heavy pounding of his heart.  
  
"I know, I know," Minseok says in a heaving breath, sitting down on the ground and staring at the light through the window. It still amazes him -- still amazes everyone -- that the days have cycles now, that the sun shines no matter how artificial above them. And weather has never been so interesting clouds forming and rain falling down as the children run through it.  
  
"The first child of Florence," Lu Han says, and he always sounds like he's announcing something, always sounds like the narrator of a great tale. "The first child of utopia."  
  
"We can work on the second one," Minseok teases, and he's trying to be flirtatious, trying to smirk but his heart is speeding up again when he hears the whir of the equipment; males can't give birth properly like females again, must be opened up through a kind of surgery.  
  
It makes Minseok's teeth gnash together and his panic to rise, even as Lu Han laughs softly at his teasing, plays with his fingers and probably worries himself, though he doesn't show it for Minseok's sake.  
  
And it's over before they know it, the healer coming out with a bow to tell Minseok that he can hold the child now, that he can wait with Lu Han until Sehun wakes up from his rest and the herbs wear off that held him under.  
  
Surprisingly it's Lu Han that cries instead of Minseok upon seeing the child, and somehow it feels more real then, seeing Lu Han carefully take the tiny girl into his arms, a look of pure wonder in his eyes. And it's the same look he gives all children, the same look he gives soft things and delicious meals, but it seems special to Minseok in this moment as he sits tiredly at Sehun's side.  
  
Sehun wakes up slowly when the herbs wear off, groaning in pain from the incision in his stomach as the healer returns to give him pain relieving herbs, ones freshly grown in the light of the greenhouses in Florence.  
  
"What's her name?" Minseok asks gently when Sehun is alert and holding the baby in his arms. He looks like a child again, eyes wide and shocked, as if amazed that he created something. "A baby with a baby," Minseok jokes and they all laugh when Sehun scowls.  
  
"I want to name her Yerim I think," Sehun says, and he sounds confident, happy. "Yerim of Florence, a child of utopia."  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅱ☯╮

  
  
  
**New York City, New York -- 1980's**  
  
"We aren't dating anymore," Is the first thing Minseok tells Sehun after introducing Lu Han, and beneath the confusion is relief, a strange kind of possession and happiness. "It just didn't work out. We've decided that like you and I we're just kindred spirits."  
  
"I think all three of us should be kindred spirits," Says Lu Han in excitement, and Sehun kinds of hates that she likes the girl. "Though I could never be as close as you two."  
  
"You've seen us together two moments," Sehun says in confusion, raising an eyebrow. "How could you know?"  
  
"Are you kidding me?" Lu Han says, and she's grinning, adorable in deer pyjamas with messy, wet shower tousled hair. Sehun hadn't been kissing when she said she may not be romantic, but she could appreciate a good-looking human being. "All Minseok ever talks about is you. Sehun this, Sehun that. I was almost jealous."  
  
Sehun is grinning at this, feeling silly for her sadness the past while, realizing that it really was paranoia after all, shy and bashful as Minseok ruffles her hair, pokes her cheeks when Sehun blushes. "I  _was_  jealous," Sehun admits with a sad kind of smile. "It's okay though, I was just being dumb."  
  
"You weren't being dumb," Minseok says sincerely, and neither of them seem to nice Lu Han slink from the room to the use the bathroom as they talk. "I disappeared and it wasn't cool."  
  
"You were busy," Sehun whines, and she doesn't want to argue, is worried that they will. "I was selfish."  
  
"No you weren't," Minseok says gently, and Sehun remembers in that moment why she loves her so much, remembers Minseok's soft acceptance and the heart that has always tried, even when Sehun herself hasn't been the best. "You were just being you."  
  
"And is that okay?" Sehun asks. "Is it okay to have faults, even if I'm trying to fix them?"  
  
"Always," Minseok says, and she's smiling an intimate kind of smile when Lu Han sits back down with them. "Lu Han," She says, and there's something scheming in her voice. "If I run to the store for some snacks will you keep Sehun company? You two can get to know each other."  
  
And Lu Han, she looks radiant as she smiles; Sehun knows they'll get along, though she doesn't shine as brightly as Minseok does.  
  
  
_sometimes all the pieces are set up perfectly and in the right place, and something is still wrong._  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Floor Sector-- Year 4063, The Dustlands**  
  
Sehun can't breathe.  
  
His vision blurs as he struggles to his fight, pressure pounding in his head as he attempts to take a breath, coughing when nothing happens, when he can barely get the tiniest bit of air as he sways on his feet.  
  
A hand catches him, strong and safe, and Sehun can make out Minseok's face in the cloud of dust, moves towards him through the weight in his lungs. "Come quickly," Minseok says, and he's yelling over the roaring wind, hair flying as he reaches out, tugs Sehun along with him. "My lungs can survive this but yours can't. We need to hurry."  
  
"Where are we going," Sehun chokes out, and he stumbles as he tries to keep up, feels weak as his legs nearly give out.  
  
"To the Syndicate," Minseok calls back to him. "To my home."  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅰ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Italy -- Late 1400's -- High Renaissance**  
  
Minseok's fingers are soft as they tug at the hem of Sehun's stockings, lips even softer as he kisses his way up Sehun's inner thighs, right above the waistband of his panties. Sehun feels beautiful like this, hips listing towards Minseok's mouth, panties tight, fabric rubbing almost painfully at his erection.  
  
Minseok takes his time, biting and sucking and kissing his way across Sehun's stomach, his chest, lips brushing teasingly across lips before Minseok tilts Sehun's chin to kiss him thoroughly.  
  
The polite "master" becomes a keen, filthy and ragged when Minseok's hand dips below the waistband of Sehun's panties, palming him too gently, not touching enough, not  _properly_. Sehun is wound up, on edge, heart pounding as Minseok curls fingers around his cock, pulls the panties off Sehun's hips, out of the way. His tongue is hot in Sehun's mouth, tracing his lips, his tongue, fingers tight around his jaw as he kisses him.  
  
The stocking are soft, material gliding across Sehun's thighs when Minseok pulls one down to tease, to drag his teeth lightly along Sehun's skin before snapping it back into place. And Sehun is nothing but patient with his master, stilling when commanded; his legs falling open when Minseok crawls between them, when he slots their hips together perfectly and grinds down, bites the sensitive skin below Sehun's ear at the same time.  
  
Sehun moans at the touch of Minseok's cock to his, at the feel of lace and silk shifting underneath Minseok's thighs. "Tell me what you want," Minseok murmurs in his ear, and Sehun moans again, gasping as their cocks rub together with each roll of their hips, Minseok panting into his ear.  
  
"Fuck me," Sehun moans, back arching at a particularly deep roll of Minseok's hips. "Master please."  
  
"I'm never one to say no to please," Minseok says quietly, smirk playful on his lips as he pulls Sehun to a sitting position, dances fingers down his spine gently just enough to have Sehun arching again, pressed flush against Minseok. "I want to feel your stockings against my thighs as you ride me."  
  
  
Sehun is sure Minseok can hear his heart, fluttering fast as he searches for the oil, pours it over his fingers to stretch Sehun quickly, impatient as he pulls Sehun onto his lap. And yet he slows down, teases with oil slick touches to Sehun's rim, licks at his lips but doesn't kiss Sehun properly, waits until Sehun is whining, writhing in Minseok's lap with pure  _want._  
  
  
  
_dreamed about it after the first time, and it was the most vivid dream, fingers and moans and hot, white flashes of pleasure across my eyelids and I wanted more and more and more and my master gave it to me, always._  
  
  
Minseok's hands are hot on his skin as he slideshis free hand up Sehun's side, splays its across his stomach as Sehun grips his shoulders, fucks himself down on Minseok's fingers rapidly, as if he  _needs_  Minseok so much he can't slow down, can't wait.  
  
And he does -- wants Minseok, needs Minseok,  _master_  -- as the fingers crook inside of him, send sparks up his spine and through his core, Sehun grinding himself down and whining loudly into Minseok's mouth as it claims his again.  
  
He can feel the silk of his stocking against Minseok's thighs, dragging slowly as Sehun lifts himself up and off Minseok's fingers, as he pants into Minseok's ear like Minseok had done minutes ago -- or was it hours?  
  
Minseok's hands are vices on Sehun's hips, gripping tightly enough to bruise, thumbs digging into the curve where his waist begins as Sehun sinks down slowly onto his cock, moans as their teeth clash in his haste to kiss Minseok, to taste his tongue as it wraps around his.  
  
Sehun begins to move, bouncing on Minseok's cock with his hands at Minseok's shoulders, and its' nearly too much, thighs trembling and cock slapping against Sehun's stomach, flushed and dripping, curving beautifully.  
  
When he grows tired, when the sweat is beading at his forehead and Minseok grows tired of meeting his hips with shallow thrusts, Sehun finds himself pinned to the bed, hands held above his head. Minseok pushes back in slowly, deep, body shaking thrusts that have Sehun's hips rising from the bed, that have his head thrown back and to the side, garbled moans of "yes master", "please",  _"more"_  spilling from his parted lips.  
  
Minseok slides his hands down Sehun's chest, teasing even while his hips snap faster, while he fucked Sehun with quick, sharp thrusts that have him seeing white spots every time, He strokes Sehun slowly, out of time with his thrusts, fingers curling around the base of Sehun's cock when he's near coming, earning a pained whine, a near keen as Sehun thrashes, begs, tears in his eyes.  
  
And Minseok, he commands respect even while he fucks, while he slows down his thrusts and deepens them, grip still tight around Sehun's cock as he drives Sehun crazy, drags his cock so slowly that Sehun's walls flutter, clench, friction too much.  
  
Sehun reaches a hand up and tangles it in Minseok's hair, pulls him down for a distracting kiss that's sweet and soft, Sehun's fingers scratching at the base of Minseok's neck as he licks his way into Minseok's mouth, pushes his hips down further back onto Minseok's cock for desperately needed pleasure.  
  
"Master," He moans, and it's broken, voice cracking as he pronounces the "r", as he breathes raggedly, heavily. "Can I?"  
  
"You ask so nicely sometimes," Minseok says quietly, and his voice is enough to pick Sehun apart, eyes soft as he fists Sehun roughly, as he quickens his hips once more, continues until Sehun comes with a broken whine of his name, of _master_.  
  
And Sehun, in his stockings with his panties to one side, with his skirts torn and littering the floor of the hallway, corset somewhere in the living room, has never felt more beautiful in his skin, has never felt more appreciated, loved as who he is by his  _master._  
  
Minseok comes quietly, hips stuttering and eyes closed blissfully, something Sehun enjoys, captures mentally always because he's beautiful too, the best person Sehun has ever known, and as they come down, tangled in each other with Sehun's stocking clad legs sliding their way up Minseok's bare ones, Sehun feels at home.  
  
"My master," He says sleepily, brushing his thumb along Minseok's bottom lip and laughing when Minseok nips at it playfully, buries his nose in Sehun's shoulder, wraps them tighter together. "My catcher of dreams."  
  
"I'll keep them safe," Minseok murmurs into sweat soaked skin, and Sehun knows he doesn't know what Sehun's talking about. And that's okay, because there are some things Sehun keeps hidden by himself, plays hauntingly on the piano, writes quietly in his notebook.  
  
  
Sehun has gone through many masters, and yet this is the first time he's ever felt loved.  
  
  


 

 

  
⚘

 

 

 

  
_"The most beautiful people I've known are those who have known trials, have known struggles, have known loss, and have found their way out of the depths."_

 

 

 

  
⚘

  
  
  
  
  
  
_you catch all of my dreams, the ones the dream catcher sees, and you make them into something, even if i’m unaware of what they are. and every time i look I understand more and more what they mean by the soul and it’s connections, and though i sometimes dream about the boy from the market with his golden hair and sparkling eyes, i know that i have you, master, the most important thing i ever dreamed._    


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅳ☯╮

  
  
  
**Beijing Floor Sector-- Year 4063, The Dustlands**  
  
  
"They're starting construction today," Minseok says as Sehun wakes up, eyes fluttering open to find Minseok straddling him, eyes glinting with something playful, teasing, though his words are serious, hushed. "The second Sky City, "A Floor Up High", they're calling it."  
  
"You've done it." Sehun breathes, and he's trying to focus, but Minseok is reaching between them, fingers feather soft as they tease Sehun, press lightly along his shaft.  
  
"No, no," Minseok says with a laugh as he leans down to kiss Sehun, to finally claim him, to finally take what Sehun had offered those weeks ago in his dingy tunnel chambers. " _We've_  done it."  
  
Sehun can't help but to think Minseok's tongue tastes of freedom.  


 

 

  
╰➳Ⅵ☯╮

  
  
  
**Florence, Year unknown; after utopia**  
  
Yerim sits cross legged where she shouldn't be, where Lu Han had scolded her many times not go. And yet it's interesting, the sliver of darkness that resides pas the glass walls.  
  
It frustrates her. She can't put her hands through the invisible wall, can't crawl out into the dark and see why it's so bright here and not there. There's a person out there too, no, people. And Yerim wants to meet them, wants to ask them about the dark place.  
  
The people are staring at her, eyes wide and shocked as they stop in front of the wall. A little boy walks forward, sits down cross legged in front of her and smiles, lips curving up like a kittens as he puts a hand up to the glass.  
Yerim mimics the action, places her hand over his, though she can't touch. She screams, cries, beats at the wall until Lu Han comes running, eyes wide with as much shock as the people outside.  
  
Yerim meets the boy later when they're in the walls, and she touches her hand to his, stares in wonder as the adults speak of the dark, giving joyous looks of surprise and wonder to her Father, who pats her head affectionately as her other Father -- she has a lot of those, she tells the boy -- looks on.  
  
And Lu Han -- he's kind of her Father but not -- he picks up the boy, asks the adults if he has a name. Yerim learns from them that this is Jongdae, and he's "very sweet Yerim, you guys will be great friends."  
  
Yerim doesn't see him for a few days, and she pouts, screams, throws tantrums until Lu Han comes home. He looks guilty, has Jongdae with him hand in hand and tells Yerim that Lu Han is a Father too now, and that Jongdae is his adopted son.  
  
And Yerim doesn't know what they means but she's excited, super excited to have a brother now.  
  
"I'm your big sister," She tells Jongdae, and her Father laughs, tells her that Jongdae is a few years older than her. Yerim pouts at this, refuses to acknowledge it.  
  
"You knew me first," She cries, and Jongdae tugs at her hand, pulls her away from all of their Fathers.  
  
"It's okay," He says, and his voice makes her glad she has a brother. "I can pretend to be little."  
  
"Okay," Yerim agrees, and it makes sense to her, a child of four. "Welcome to utopia, little brother."  
  
  
  
  
_you know, i really like triangles. something feels right about them in the way that the dream catcher feels right as it twinkles from the balcony. three is a good number, sharp, perfect. i wonder if master has any significance to three, to triangles. i'll ask._  


 

 

  
_“ From womb to tomb, we are bound to others. Past and present. And by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future” -- Sonmi-451, Cloud Atlas”_

 


End file.
